


Reactions

by Gumnut



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Brothers, Conspiracy, Corruption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Global Defence Force, Government Conspiracy, Sabotage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25779496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Virgil and Gordon get into a bar fight which has many more consequences than anyone expected.
Comments: 48
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Reactions
> 
> Author: Gumnut
> 
> 18 Jul – Aug 2020
> 
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
> 
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Summary: Virgil and Gordon get into a bar fight which has many more consequences than anyone expected.
> 
> Word count: 16,000+
> 
> Spoilers & warnings: language
> 
> Timeline: Season Two, shortly after ‘Impact’
> 
> Author's note: Nutty's Fandomversary 2020 Fic Three. For @soniabigcheese who asked for Gordon and Bedlam. This one has gotten out of control and is much bigger than intended.
> 
> Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight , @scribbles97 for the reading and cheerleading and to @tsarinatorment for poking me from time to time and pointing me in directions I need to go ::hugs::
> 
> Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.
> 
> -o-o-o-

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Virgil ducked a fist aimed at his head, grabbed the guy around the belly and flipped him face-first into a wall.

“I dunno! Maybe I wasn’t?” Gordon darted out of the way of his own opponent’s fist.

Virgil grabbed a woman’s dropped scarf from a nearby table, his fingers brushing against broken glass. He shook the material and more glass tinkled to the equally strewn floor. The man in his other hand writhed and attempted to kick him in the shins with the heel of his boot. Virgil just shoved him harder into the wall.

Twisted scarf made excellent restraints, particularly when looped into a chair which was conveniently bolted to the floor.

It was a bar. It was supposed to be a quiet night with Gordon. A couple of brothers shooting the breeze after a hard day at work. It wasn’t often they got to sit down for a moment, have a meal and just talk.

There had been a false alarm. A reported mine collapse that hadn’t been as serious as suspected and after three earlier rescues in that day, Virgil had called a halt and invited Gordon out for dinner.

His fish brother had looked at him somewhat strangely for all of two seconds and then enthusiastically accepted.

Stashing Two at the nearest GDF base, donning casual clothes, they’d borrowed a car, driven into town, and after a couple of personal errands, found a decent looking bar and ordered steak and a couple of beers.

It had been really good. It wasn’t often that they got time to just relax and enjoy each other’s company.

The alcohol had been minimal as technically they were still on call. Gordon had a quite long and persuasive discussion with John as to whether he should drop down and join them.

John politely declined.

Gordon threatened his tribble collection.

John threatened a fish tank or two.

Gordon threatened a telescope.

John threatened to tell Penelope about Gordon’s fangirly underwear collection.

Virgil stepped in before Gordon exploded.

As it was, the couple one table over were staring over their shoulders at the two guys apparently arguing with their collars.

John was wrestled into a promise of some downtime day after next and asked to tally it up with the rest of the brothers as a family get together.

All was good and well and enjoyable.

Until _they_ walked into the bar.

It wasn’t a rough bar. In fact, it showed signs of families visiting during the day and had a few older folks out the back playing the slot machines.

But every community had this type and every community had to handle their bullshit.

Five of them in total. Two of them decided to harass a woman sitting by herself at the bar. Gordon happened to be ordering some mineral water to follow up on their beers at the time and, of course, he stepped in.

And this was the result.

Of course, the entire situation split the bar into three camps – the Tracy side, the annoyance side, and the innocent bystanders who just wanted a quiet meal at the pub.

Virgil had a foot each in the first and last camps.

But he was a Tracy and a guy built even bigger than Virgil loomed over Gordon with all the signs of intending to smush his brother.

While Gordon was quite capable of wiping the floor clean with the guy’s head, Virgil hadn’t been comfortable with the four others paying far too much attention to the matter.

So, he had swallowed the last of his beer and, putting the glass down, wandered over to stand beside his shorter brother.

Now, Virgil wasn’t particularly tall, but where Gordon’s swimmer’s strength was mostly hidden by his shirt, Virgil’s heavy lifting strength most certainly wasn’t.

The loomer eyed Virgil with a little more respect, but unfortunately the man’s height must have outpaced his IQ, because he didn’t back down.

He had far too much confidence in his buddies.

Loomer threw a punch and Gordon educated him in WASP fighting techniques.

It was a very short lesson.

Virgil took on the four who didn’t like that.

God bless his wonderful sister for all that training, sans coffee at five in the morning or not.

Gordon finished off Loomer and took on two of the guys Virgil had been dancing with.

From then on it had been dodge and attempt to restrain. Virgil had no interest in causing injury, he just wanted to contain the idiots.

They didn’t seem to want to comply.

So, there were bruises and broken furniture.

Virgil felt sorry for the bar owner. No doubt Tracy money would be fixing a few things. Scott was not going to be impressed.

Virgil walked up behind a guy who had thought it would be fun to team up with Gordon’s opponent in a semi-coordinated attack. He didn’t bother hitting the man, he just grabbed an arm and yanked. Spinning him around he used another convenient wall to bring his attack to a very abrupt halt.

The man’s language was explicit and quite offensive.

“Okay, now break it up.” Several police officers walked into the bar.

Gordon’s opponent was already on the floor. The aquanaut held both of his hands up and backed up to show he was no threat.

Virgil had to keep a hold of his still profane antagonist, so he was only able to hold up one hand.

A gun clicked. “Let the man go.”

A frown and Virgil did as he was asked, holding up his remaining hand.

Foul Mouth spun around and before the police officer could react, planted his fist in Virgil’s cheek bone.

“Hey!” And there were suddenly police everywhere. Hands grabbed Virgil as he attempted to shake the stars from his eyesight.

Goddamn, that hurt.

“We’re the victims here. He’s my brother, let him go!”

Blinking, he tried to straighten, but his arms were wrenched behind his back and handcuffed.

His head spun.

“Do you have any idea of who we are?!”

Gordon, shut up or we’ll be on the networks within minutes.

Then Scott would be really pissed.

Virgil wilted in the grip of the men holding him.

His brother was going to be apoplectic.

-o-o-o-


	2. Chapter 2

Fortunately or unfortunately, it took the trip to the police station before their identities were discovered.

The police chief was dragged from her office. She was a short woman, probably in her fifties with eyes that had seen far too much. She looked Virgil and Gordon up and down, stared at their ID and set her shoulders.

“Don’t expect special treatment here. The law is the law. Money does not let you escape it.” She handed their ID back to the duty officer. “Process and book them just like the others. Maybe they’ll learn something.” She turned her back to them and disappeared into her office.

Virgil stared after her with an aching face. A glance at his brother found a Gordon explosion in the making.

“Gords.”

Those russet brown eyes darted in his direction and Virgil shook his head just once.

The aquanaut’s lips thinned to almost nonexistence, but his shoulders settled. He still turned to the officer, however. “At least can we please have some medical attention for my brother?”

“After processing.”

And they were fingerprinted and genetically identified. The database churned out Gordon’s military record and two brushes with the law as a teenager.

Dad had been so angry both times.

Kind of like what Scott was going to be shortly.

Virgil didn’t have a police record. All his liaisons with the law had been as an International Rescue operative. The database was pedantic and churned out a list of all the incident files he had been a signatory on.

It was a long list.

At least some respect appeared in the officer’s eyes at the math of how many people had been saved by the two men standing in front of him.

Regardless, they were searched. Gordon’s pocket knife was confiscated and Virgil watched sadly as they packed away the brand new piano string he had bought on the way into town. What was worse was his favourite multitool, which lived in his left boot, went with it. Gordon frowned at the sight of it.

Holograms were taken and they were escorted to a cell, fortunately one that only contained the two of them. There, finally, Virgil was able to let his shoulders drop. He leant back against the cool brickwork and let out a breath.

“Sorry, Virg.”

A slow blink. “Had to be done.” A sigh and he reached for his collar. “Thunderbird Two to Tracy Island.”

“Tracy Island, how goes those steaks, Virg?”

He pressed his lips together and his cheek complained. “Could be better.”

Scott picked up his tone of voice immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He really didn’t want to ruin his brother’s mood. Another sigh. “Got into a fight. Been arrested.”

There was total silence at the other end of the line. “You’ve been arrested?”

“Yes, and Virgil was punched in the face!”

That face glared at his little brother. “I’m fine, Scott, but we need bail.”

More silence.

Shit.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” The line cut dead.

Virgil slumped against the wall.

“Fifteen? He’s not using One is he?”

A sigh. “Yes, he is.”

“Virgil, report.” John’s voice was sharp and Gordon rolled his eyes.

Virgil held up a hand, stopping Gordon from adding to the mess. “We’re in jail, John, as you have no doubt scanned thoroughly. Tell Eos to be subtle this time.”

“Excuse me, Virgil, it wasn’t my fault last time.” Her voice was even sharper than John’s and it rattled his headache.

“One word, Eos…popcorn.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“She was just trying to help, Virgil.” Okay, so he had stepped on his brother’s ‘daddy toes’.

He touched a finger gingerly to his bruised cheek. “Whatever. Just do what you can to stem the tide of paparazzi.”

A sigh. “FAB.” Pause. “You still haven’t given me your report.”

“Virg has a shiner in the making. Needs an x-ray of his cheek bone. That asshole hit him hard.”

Virgil glared at Gordon and paid for it when it pulled at his injured face.

“Grandma has been notified.”

Shit. Could this day get any worse? He had only wanted to relax for a couple hours.

“Scott’s en route.” Was he imagining a hint of apology in his space brother’s tone? There was certainly enough concern.

“I’m fine, John. Just need to get out of here.”

“Help is on the way.”

His only answer was a grunt.

-o-o-o-

Scott was punctual as usual. There was no missing the roar of One’s engines as she caused a traffic hazard outside the building.

Virgil, who had been nagged to lie down by a persistent aquanaut, pushed himself upright at the sound.

Gordon was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Now we get to see some action.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and regretted it. Another poke and prod revealed some nasty swelling. He must look a sight.

Scott was going to be unbearable.

It was another five minutes after the cooling of rocket engines out in the street before their cell door was flung open.

The situation was worse than expected.

Virgil stared, still sitting down on the bed, as his grandmother hurried into the room.

Oh, shit.

He had the briefest glance of a concerned Scott before their grandmother was in front of him.

“Virgil, oh honey.” Her fingers took his chin as she studied his injury.

“I’m okay, Grandma.”

“We’ll see.” And with the flick of a purple wrist, out came a medical scanner, its yellow light flickering over his face. He flinched away. “Hold still, honey. Just a moment, I promise.”

He felt like a five-year-old.

“Gordon, report.” Scott’s voice was sharp and so military, Virgil could hear Gordon’s spine crack into attention. What followed was a concise and accurate report of the fight. Virgil was surprised at how much his little brother had absorbed amongst the bedlam.

“Your cheek bone is not broken, but you’ve got a doozy of a contusion there, honey. Lots of bed rest and chicken soup for you.”

Great. Just great.

He hoped the soup was from a can.

Another voice echoed down the corridor. A firm and sharp stream of legal terms that definitely did not sound good for anyone who wasn’t a Tracy.

“You brought Jack?”

Scott’s attention switched to Virgil. He shrugged. “He’s our lawyer. You’re in jail. Seemed pertinent.”

“In fifteen minutes?”

“He got a ride in Thunderbird One.”

Virgil snorted. “Was that a reward or a punishment?”

“He seemed to enjoy it.”

Jack Dunning was their family lawyer and considering their occupation, he earned every cent the Tracys threw at him. Short, dumpy and balding, the man was raking the police chief over the coals as they arrived at the door of the cell.

One glance at Virgil and Jack turned back to the chief and ripped her an extra one about his medical condition.

“We called the medical attendant.” Her words were defensive and much less the sure person they had met before.

“So, you’re telling me, International Rescue could respond faster from halfway around the world than you could find a local doctor? Considering the amount of swelling, Mr Tracy could quite easily have a concussion, broken cheek bone, possibly internal bleeding. Why was he not seen to?”

“We were in the process of-“

Jack ignored her and prodded his tablet.

“What about the other participants? Your report mentions that there was some loss of consciousness. Have these men been attended to?”

“The severity of their injuries called for it, yes. Procedure-“

“Then why was Mr Tracy neglected?”

“He was not. The medical attendant was on his way.”

“So, International Rescue _can_ respond faster.” He poked his tablet some more.

“Look, I don’t know how you rich types expect to be treated, but in this police station everyone is treated fairly and equally.”

“You better hope so.” Jack’s tone was final and spoke of an investigation in the future.

“Okay, boys, time to go home.” Grandma really was the real commander on the team. It was proven by the fact Scott did not hesitate to obey.

“Gordon, you have Thunderbird Two. Virgil, you’re riding with me.”

“Really?” So, it came out whiney and petulant. Big deal.

“There is no way you are flying with that injury, young man.” Grandma tugged him to his feet.

“I’m fine, Grandma. It’s just a bruise. You said so yourself.”

“Forget it, Virgil.” Scott’s tone was final and spoke of future discussions on the topic.

Okay, so Grandma being here was a temporary distraction from the words Scott had no doubt were loaded up and ready to be fired his way.

Time for a pre-emptive strike. “We were in the right, Scott.”

“I’m aware of that, Virgil. Time to go.” Scott ushered Gordon ahead, gently took Virgil’s arm and led him from the holding cell.

A glance at those pursed lips made it very clear that as predicted, Scott was pissed.

An internal sigh.

This was not going to be fun.

-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

They made it back to Tracy Island, Virgil before Gordon, simply because their eldest brother was a speed freak and always had to be first. Virgil made it through yet another examination by Grandma, another lecture, and a change of clothes.

While trying to sneak down to the kitchen for a coffee to soothe his aching soul, he discovered that Gordon hadn’t managed to even escape Scott yet.

He stood glaring at his eldest brother in front of their father’s desk while Scott blew enough steam to crimp the aquanaut’s hair.

“C’mon, did you think before you acted?”

“The guy was a prick. You would have done exactly the same thing. In fact, I believe you did, not three years ago. Remember Giselle?”

Giselle the gazelle, legs that went all the way up and ran just as fast when she found out Tracys were not easy targets for gold diggers.

Virgil had been ecstatic to see the end of that one.

Scott stumbled at the challenge. “We’re not talking about me, Gordon. We’re talking about you. There had to be a way to diffuse the situation other than a fight.”

Gordon shifted where he stood and took a step forward. “No, Scott, we are talking about you. You’re the one who flew a Thunderbird into the centre of town and parked it in the main street! Way to go to attract the media to our little party. Perhaps you should consider your reactions to your need to protect. Because that is all I was doing! Protecting those women from a bunch of assholes.”

“You should have found another way! You represent this family and this organisation whether you like it or not. Have you seen what they are saying?!”

“Of course, I’ve seen it. The media are dicks, I know this. John’s working on it.”

“John shouldn’t have to! You shouldn’t have let it escalate like that!”

“We were in the right!”

“I don’t care!”

“HEY!” Virgil’s bellow shook the rafters and his poor head. Ow. “What the hell is going on here?!”

Scott raised a hand to point at Virgil.

Virgil didn’t let him open his mouth. “Gordon, go get changed.”

Scott’s eyes flared. “Virgil-“

“Gordon, go.” He held his eldest brother’s eyes as Gordon’s widened darting between the both of them.

A blink and he scampered off.

Virgil glared at Scott. “What the hell was that?”

“Have you seen what they are saying about us?”

“No, but that does not excuse you yelling at Gordon.”

A frustrated grunt and Scott turned away, throwing himself in their father’s chair, his body screaming annoyance and worry. He pushed away the tablet sitting on the desk in disgust. “They are claiming we used our influence as a ‘get out of jail free card’. The idiots you fought with are awake and claiming lawsuits. It is a royal shitfest.”

“So? Not the first time. Evidence will clear us. Has happened before. Maybe not in quite the same way, but the problem is not without solution.” A sigh. “What is it, Scott?”

His brother was staring at the desktop as if he could melt it with his eyes. “You say you haven’t heard what they are saying?”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t care what they are saying. I know what happened. Gordon’s motivation was honourable and he is right, the guys were assholes.” Particularly the one who hit him. He stretched his jaw and winced.

“You okay?”

It was going to be like this for days. “It’s just a bruise, Scott. Stop worrying.”

“You look like a reject from a Rocky movie.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just saying it as I see it.”

“Then close your eyes and shut up.”

His brother dumped his elbows down on the desktop and rubbed his face. “I wish.”

A sigh. “C’mon, Scott, it is going to be fine. Jack will clear it up. John and Eos will wipe a good chunk of it, and we’ll go back to being the organisation that saves people. Which is what we are and nothing else matters.”

Two blue eyes turned to stare at him. “You really think it is that simple?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you are wrong.” Scott hit a switch and the holographic display flicked up showing the latest news report.

_‘Womanizing, alcoholism, and bar brawls - while Daddy’s away, the Tracys play.’_

A montage of shots, all obviously from amateur phones…Gordon approaching the women at the bar, Gordon throwing a very decisive punch that sent his opponent to the ground. A far-too-close shot of Virgil’s bruised face, quickly followed by him staggering backwards into the arms of police and being handcuffed. Scott leading an injured Virgil and stormy faced Gordon from the police station. The expression on his big brother’s face was stone above the IR logo on his uniform.

Virgil groaned inside.

The camera settled on Gordon and Virgil sitting at their table with their one beer bottle each. The shot was frozen with Virgil lifting that bottle to drink and Gordon grinning at him.

It had been a fun moment, a brother moment. They had been talking about John and Eos like a couple of uncles. It was a good memory. But frozen at that moment, they looked like they were partying and having a good time.

Which they were, just not in the way the media were portraying it.

_‘It’s been seven years since the loss of the giant who was Jeff Tracy. The first man to walk on Mars and the entrepreneur who built Tracy Industries from scratch into the world’s greatest aerospace innovator, the self-made billionaire was a man we have mourned greatly. However, some argue that the biggest contribution made by Mr Tracy was International Rescue._

_‘Five ships, five pilots and some incredible technology aimed at saving lives. International Rescue has done a great deal of good in the last nine years._

_‘When Mr Tracy died, the organisation was left in the hands of his five sons, most notably the eldest three, though eventually the two youngest joined as they came of age._

_‘The world has been trusting lives to these five men, but the cracks are beginning to show. Recent incidents have those in power asking questions._

_‘Starting with the near catastrophe of the falling Estrella Grand Space Hotel last year, we have since discovered that International Rescue had a hand in the loss of the priceless artifact, the generational ship Eden, followed by the destruction of the even more invaluable artifacts at none other than the Lost City of Atlantis. Of course, recent events with the massive explosion of an alleged comet over North America and the detritus that rained down on thousands of Americans is still a hot topic with many questions going unanswered._

_‘But to find two of these operatives drinking and brawling in a bar has to be the last straw. Do we really want to trust our lives to these men? Can they be trusted with that much power?_

_‘The moment the two of them were placed in jail, for legitimate reasons, as they had been caught fighting, the eldest of the five, Scott Tracy, alleged and self-titled Commander of International Rescue, saw fit to park Thunderbird One in the middle of a busy street, just so he could bail his brothers out of jail._

_‘This was an obvious abuse of privilege and it has led to many questions being asked. In fact, this channel has discovered that this is not the first time International Rescue’s blatant self-regulation has been questioned._

_‘Late last year there was a movement within the Global Defence Force itself to put tighter controls on the organisation and it appears rightly so._

Virgil stared at the reporter. A woman with an unfamiliar name, her claims were interspersed with footage from the events she mentioned, coupled with more phone camera shots of IR and his brothers.

None were complimentary.

Well, shit.

-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

Scott killed the projector and rubbed his face with his hand again. “That is just some of it.” He looked up at Virgil. “I might dismiss it as nothing, except John has been stalling Colonel Casey since we got home.”

Virgil realised his mouth was hanging open and shut it. “It was a simple dinner. We just wanted a break.”

“Yeah, well, it broke something.” Scott let out an exasperated sound and shot to his feet. “Why Virg? You’re the last one I’d expect to end up in jail. You’re the calm one, the cool head. Gordon, sure, but you?”

“It wasn’t intentional. It was an evening meal, that’s all. We missed lunch, we were tired, we just wanted to stop for a minute and take a breather. It’s not a crime.”

Scott’s shoulders dropped and his eyes with them. “Well, apparently it is.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. His instinct was to say sorry. He hated seeing his brother like this. But… “I’m not going to apologise.” Blue flashed up at him. “We were doing what we needed to do. Gordon was in the right to defend that woman. It led to an altercation and it was unfortunate, but we did the right thing.”

“That’s not how the world sees it.”

“To be honest, I don’t care. I know what happened, they don’t.”

“You, unfortunately, are not the one who says what we can and cannot do.” Scott had turned to stare out towards the ocean.

“You don’t think…” Virgil didn’t want to even breach the topic.

“I don’t know what to think. All I know is that Colonel Casey is not happy. I’ve held off talking to her until Gordon could give me his side of the story. Now you give me yours.”

Virgil stared at his brother, now more commander than sibling. Unconsciously, he straightened.

He spoke words, concise and true words about dinner, about the entrance of the five men, Gordon’s altercation and the mess that followed, how they were arrested, the police station, right up to the point Scott had walked into that cell.

The commander’s lips grew thinner as the story unfolded; blue eyes frowned.

At some point Virgil ran out of words and there was silence.

Scott stared at him for a long moment before swallowing.

“I owe Gordon an apology.” His brother turned away and sat down at the desk again. “You did the right thing.”

Virgil blinked. Scott apologies were rare and valuable. “Thank you.”

A sigh. “But it won’t fix this.” He thumbed a switch on the desk. “John, can you please contact Colonel Casey.”

Their space brother flickered in. “She’s still on the line. Never signed off.” Scott’s eyes widened. “Okay. Put her through.”

John flickered out and was replaced with the Colonel.

The dark-haired woman didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes settled on Scott in an unnerving glare only to dart to Virgil and obviously the damage to his face. “Are you okay, Virgil?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I presume Sally has seen to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer before snapping back to Scott. “Commander, recent events have created a problem. My superiors are not impressed.”

“Are they aware of the facts in the matter, Colonel? My team’s conduct was exemplary under the circumstances. I would hope your superiors would be interested in the facts not the hearsay.”

“I would be very interested in those facts, Commander. If you could relay a report, I would be grateful to receive it.”

Virgil frowned. Aunt Val’s continued use of Scott’s rank was unusual. Her expression was tight, almost as if… He turned to look at his brother. Scott eyed him for a split second, but his expression was stoic.

“Will do, Colonel. However, I believe it to be in International Rescue’s best interests if you contact our lawyer, Jack Dunning, for detail. I will leave the report with his counsel.”

Something flickered in their aunt’s eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure if it was approval, worry or both. “Very well.” Her eyes flickered to Virgil again and softened for just a second before returning to their military hardness and latching onto Scott again. “Fly safe, Commander.” And she flickered out.

What the-?

“Aw, hell.” Scott stared at where their aunt had disappeared.

“You can say that again.”

‘Fly safe’ was a warning. Instigated by their father and aunt long ago. A signal should the powers-that-be at the GDF suddenly decide that they didn’t like not having access to IR’s technology. A code that indicated that International Rescue may possibly be under threat from the GDF itself.

Virgil stared at Scott.

But words failed him.

-o-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Gordon-“

“No, Virgil, this sucks ass and it’s bullshit. You’re telling me we’re back to needing a hall pass? I thought Aunt Val told them to shove that idea where the sun don’t shine.”

They were standing in Lady Penelope’s parlour.

All of them - Scott, Virgil, John, Gordon, Alan, Grandma, Kayo, Brains, Penelope and Parker. It was like Christmas in July...or a perfect storm. The missive had come stamped and sealed not long after Aunt Val had signed off. Virgil had no doubt that she knew it was coming and her urgent communique was the best heads up she had been capable of.

Scott had ordered everyone...well, except Grandma, no one ordered Grandma...into Thunderbird Two and to London. Kayo had secured Tracy Island, the villa stark under its storm shutters. They would be back, but first they needed to discuss the situation without the need for comms.

“Gordon, language!”

“I’m sorry, Grandma, but I think the situation warrants it.”

His grandmother walked over to Gordon and placed her hand on his arm. “Honey, what the situation warrants is calm and clear heads so we can work out a way to cram this order down their throats.”

Russet brown eyes stared at her for a moment before the aquanaut sagged just a little. “Sorry, Grandma.”

She reached up and gently cupped his cheek. “We’ll work this out, honey. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Scott’s voice was firm, but his eyes held that hint of apology. “And we will work it out.” He turned to Penelope. “What is the situation?”

“Somewhat alarming, I’m afraid. Rumour has it that there has been some serious shuffling in the upper echelons of the GDF. Certain world councillors have been asking questions and demanding answers that they want to hear.”

Gordon bristled. “You mean they don’t want the truth.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Motivation?” The blue in Scott’s eyes was almost electric with energy.

Parker stepped up. “I believe it’s the oldest one in the book, Mr Scott, sir. Power.”

Penelope’s lips thinned. “With a side order of money.” A delicate sigh. “I’m sorry, Scott. It is not the best of news.”

Lips thin, Scott glanced at Virgil a moment before returning his gaze to Penelope. “Do we know who is responsible?”

She straightened her shoulders. “My father tells me there is a new player on the World Security Council. Elsa Wainwright has replaced the retiring US representative.”

Beside Virgil, Gordon startled. “Wainwright? USN Sentinel Wainwright?”

Penelope arched an eyebrow. “Precisely.”

“Oooh, that’s not good.”

“Would you like to share with the class?” Alan’s sarcasm was a physical thing.

A narrow glare at his littlest brother, and Gordon twisted his lips in distaste. “US Navy Admiral Wainwright was the principle lead in the Sentinel program.” Virgil wasn’t sure he had heard his brother say something with such distaste. “A fleet of extremely fast warships commanded by a hand-picked collection of trigger-happy commanders. WASP Command was not impressed. Brandy knew some of the officers killed in the mistaken identity screw up two years ago. Wainwright got off scott-free. That woman is dangerous. She has her own agenda.”

Brandy was Gordon’s former commander in WASP. After the hydrofoil accident, the entire Tracy family grew to know the brusque but loyal WASP officer.

Gordon may have been given an honourable discharge, but Brandy McGee had left a swath of kicks up the ass for those responsible for the hydrofoil crash. The initial accusation of pilot error had been swiftly crushed under her military issue boot.

Her opinion was worth an ear.

As for Penelope’s father, he was a long-time friend of their father’s. Hugh Creighton-Ward was the UK representative on the World Security Council. Cool, calm and calculating, his opinion was close to fact.

Scott turned back to Penelope. “Any word from the agent network.”

Blue eyes met blue eyes, Penelope’s calm, much like her father’s. Scott’s fiery, all his brother’s energy just beneath the surface.

“My mother is investigating.” And that was the obvious end to that line of questioning.

There were aspects of International Rescue that the GDF were not aware. In her corner, leaning against a book case, Kayo’s green eyes glittered over the smallest of smiles.

“So, what are we going to do?” Alan was obviously frustrated, if not a little frightened.

Virgil didn’t blame him. There were so many questions. What could they respond to? What was forbidden?

How many people were going to be lost who could have been saved?

He set his shoulders. “What do we do if we are barred from launching?”

John’s movements were graceful as he rose from his seat in the corner. He was finally wearing the new shirt Virgil had bought for him. A deep turquoise, it still had the necessary piping to provide the gravity support tech his brother often needed, but at least it wasn’t that godawful beige brown. Virgil considered finding the other shirt and burning it when John wasn’t looking.

As if John knew what he was thinking, those equally turquoise eyes caught Virgil’s. A copper eyebrow arched.

Who was he kidding? John saw all. Virgil would never get away with it. Eos would probably end up torching his music collection or something.

John’s lips quirked and Virgil stared at his brother.

Neither of them said a thing until John turned to Scott. “Eos is in the nets. We’ll let you know if we discover anything. As a precaution, I have alerted all the local emergency services that there may be an issue. Our priority must be to save as many lives as possible despite these restrictions.”

“It is so frustrating!” Gordon was almost vibrating with aggravation. “We didn’t do anything!”

Virgil took a step closer to his brother and placed a hand on his arm. Grandma who was on the aquanaut’s other side, caught Virgil’s eyes with a worried frown.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Gords, we will work this out.”

“And how many people are going to die in the meantime?!”

Virgil’s fingers tightened just a little around Gordon’s arm. “We will do what we can.”

“What if it is not enough?” Alan took a step forward.

“It will be enough.” Scott’s voice was cold. “We will not stand by and let people die because someone has a political agenda.”

Virgil let out a breath. “Scott-“

His brother’s eyes hit him like a pair of laser beams. “They tried this on us once before. It didn’t work for Janus and be damned if I’m going to let this Wainwright walk all over us either.”

“Scott-“

“No, Virgil. Dad wouldn’t stand for it and neither will I.”

-o-o-o-


	6. Chapter 6

They decided to stay the night at the manor. It was an uneasy dinner. Not much was said, each member of the family caught in thought.

Grandma flittered like a bird from one brother to another with caring words and a kind touch. The woman was all clothed steel - gentle on the surface, sharp and possibly lethal underneath. The whole reason why she was such a bad cook was because she had spent her life focussing her talents elsewhere. Virgil idly wondered if the solution to this whole problem just involved planting Grandma in the World Council. If her tongue didn’t eviscerate enough people, her cooking would finish the job.

Virgil hung around keeping an eye on his brothers. Alan drifted off to bed early. Well, the kid was exhausted and worried, so Virgil nudged him in the right direction. That earned him a glare, but Virgil knew the teenager needed it. He would check on him later.

Gordon was a furious ball of energy the entire night, eyes flicking to various members of the family. He vanished at one point and Virgil found him in the indoor pool. No doubt he would be there for a while.

John did his usual disappearing act. Of all his brothers, John was the most worrisome in this situation. Gordon and Scott would react physically. John...John had other more destructive methods that could be enacted from his bedroom and a temperament that matched their grandmother’s. Virgil fully intended to check up on him as soon as possible.

However, first he had to speak to Scott.

Excusing himself with all due decorum and a pointed look from Grandma, Virgil went looking for his eldest brother.

Scott had retired to his rooms in the old manor, a fact that was alarming in itself as the man was more one to hover in such a worrisome situation, concerned about his brothers. He had stuck around to see Alan off but then done his own vanishing spell while Virgil was hunting down Gordon.

Virgil ended up outside his door hand poised to knock. There were so many questions, concerns and worries.

And blame.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had not stepped up to help Gordon in the bar, if he had dragged his brother away...

If they had simply not stopped for a break and just gone home to their safe little island in the Pacific.

But something in him reared up. They had a right to enjoy a little of the happiness they fought so hard for other people. It had been an innocent meal; Gordon had been relaxing and smiling. It had been a good time.

It shouldn’t have ended the way it did, but they were in the right. They did the right thing.

His knuckles rapped on hardwood.

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

His brother didn’t even need to open the door apparently.

“Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil was faced with the possibility Scott would refuse him. But then the sound of footsteps and the door was thrown open.

Virgil blinked. His brother was half dressed, his blue shirt hanging open to a bare chest. His jeans had obviously been shoved on quickly. His hair was sticking up in all directions...like he had been running his hands through it.

“You okay?” Virgil frowned at him.

Scott scoffed and grabbed at his duffle beside the door and shoved it onto a chair. “I’ve already answered that question. Next?” He stood with his weight on one leg more than the other hands on his hips, all very much as if he was too busy for this crap.

Too bad.

Virgil closed the door quietly and turned to face his brother. “Talk to me, Scott.”

“What do you want me to say? That everything will be fine? Not to worry?”

“Of course not, I-“

“Good, because it isn’t.” His brother turned back to the duffle bag and began rifling through it.

A spare pair of jeans were thrown to the floor

“Scott-“

“What?! What do you want?!” Hands paused and Scott glared at him. But it was an unsteady glare, his eyes glistening.

Shit.

Virgil took a step forward and that glare intensified for a moment before returning to the hunt through the duffle bag.

A spare shirt hit the carpet.

Virgil took advantage and closed the gap between himself and his brother, daring to drop a hand gently on his arm.

The arm flinched, but the hands kept rifling.

Three pairs of underwear, all plane prints in three different colours, joined the jeans and shirt on the floor.

Voice soft. “What are you looking for?”

“My shampoo.”

Virgil reached over, unzipped a side pocket of the duffle and pulled out the requested item. He held it out to his brother without a word.

A hand claimed it with an equal lack of voice, but with gratitude, nonetheless.

His brother’s body stilled from its aggravated motion and sagged a little.

Virgil moved his hand to Scott’s shoulder. Ever so soft. “Talk to me.”

Blue eyes darted to him and back down to the duffle bag. Lips thinned and Virgil could almost see the fight going on inside his brother’s head.

He waited.

And waited.

Little more than a whisper. “Why are they doing this?”

Virgil blinked.

“I’ve done everything I can. Everything I could think of. Everything I thought Dad would do. But it is not enough. The Hood, the Mechanic, hell, even the GDF...want to take it all. Dad’s dream and...Mom’s memory.”

Virgil’s frown was headache inducing.

Blue eyes turned to look at him. “I can’t let them, Virgil. They can’t have it.”

“We’re not facing that yet, Scott.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Scott straightened, lips thinning. “Unfortunately, optimism isn’t tactically sound.”

Virgil let his hand drop and swallowed. “What are you thinking?”

An exasperated sound and Scott turned away, striding towards the huge bed in the middle of the room. “What are we going to do? Isn’t that the real question? What miracle do I have up my sleeve?”

“Scott-“

“No, it’s fine. It’s my job to have the answers. My job to make the decisions.” A sigh. “Virg, we will do what we always do.”

Unhesitant. “Save people.”

“Yeah.” Scott’s hand came to rest on the bed post. “Those that we can....even if it is each other.”

It was warm in the room, but Virgil shivered at his brother’s words.

-o-o-o-


	7. Chapter 7

Scott left for his shower after that, leaving Virgil at a loss of what to do. Eyeing the duffel, he picked up the discarded clothing and shoved it back into the bag.

Beyond the ensuite door, the shower started up. Virgil stared at the sound. It was obvious Scott needed time to process, but Virgil was worried at his brother’s initial reaction. There was defiance, as expected, but the tone of defeat and loss in his brother’s words felt wrong.

Scott took everything on. All the responsibility, all the trust and all the derision thrown at them, Scott stepped up to catch it. Both as a shield for his brothers and because he believed that that was what he had to do.

He didn’t.

But he would never understand that.

Virgil sighed.

A night to sleep on it. He would tackle his eldest brother again tomorrow.

In the meantime, he had a space brother to track down.

-o-o-o-

As expected, Virgil found John’s room empty, but it wasn’t hard to guess where he might be.

He ran into Grandma in the hallway.

“How are you, honey?” Blue eyes searched his.

“I’m okay, Grandma.”

She reached up and laid her hands on his shoulders. “I find that very hard to believe, young man.” She sighed. “How is Scott?”

“Been better.”

“Should I drop in on him.”

Virgil held her eyes, his lips thinning. A moment of thought. “No. He needs time. I’ll check on him tomorrow.”

Grandma frowned. “You’re sure?”

Virgil straightened just a little. “I’m sure.”

His grandmother looked away for a second. “I’ve looked in on Alan. He’s sleeping on the floor again.”

A sigh. Alan had taken up the habit while Gordon was recovering from the hydrofoil accident. His big brother had been too fragile to crawl into bed with, so Alan, desperately in need of reassurance and his brother’s presence, had taken to curling up on the floor beside the bed to keep close.

His brothers had immediately shoved an extra bed into the room, but Alan still ended up on the floor. It was a habit that he had never quite lost, even if he was alone in his own room. He seemed to gain comfort from the position in some way.

Many fluffy rugs had been purchased for this exact reason.

It was always a sign that the youngest of them was upset or worried.

It was inevitable tonight.

“Gordon?”

Grandma squeezed his shoulders gently. “Still in the pool.” She eyed him again. “John?”

“I’m guessing on the roof.”

“No surprises there.”

“I’m chasing him up.” A crooked smile. “To make sure he isn’t hacking into the World Bank and creating financial ruin for certain people…or worse.”

His smile was mimicked. “Good idea. I’ll check on Brains. No doubt he is shouldering enough blame to fuel one of the Thunderbirds.”

Virgil frowned. “How could this possibly be his fault?”

She shrugged. “Geniuses think too much? It seems to be a defining trait.” Her hands slid down to his biceps. “You sure you’re okay, honey?” Her eyes latched onto him again, resting on his cheek bone. “Remember to rest. You are still healing.”

“I’m okay, Grandma.” It was only a bruise, for goodness sake.

She stared at him a second longer, but didn’t say anything further. She drew him into a hug, her bowed head just under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her.

“We’ll be okay, Grandma. We’ll work it out.”

She pulled away gently to look up at him again. “I know we will. Now, you need to find John.” A gentle squeeze of his arm. “And don’t forget to look after yourself.” A raised eyebrow. “Or I will look after you myself, young man.”

His eyes widened just a little. “Yes, Grandma.”

She leant up and kissed him on the cheek. “Off you go.” She gave him a little nudge.

“Yes, Grandma.”

A fond smile and she headed off down the corridor.

His eyes followed her until she turned a corner. His grandmother was an amazing woman. He just… she was amazing.

-o-o-o-

He turned and headed in the opposite direction towards the stairs to the attic and the roof beyond.

As expected, he found John, wrapped in a blanket, staring at a holographic display as his hands wove code.

Virgil made no secret of his presence, his boots scuffing on the rooftop.

John said nothing as he approached.

Nothing as he sat down beside him.

John simply continued what he was doing.

Virgil stared up at the night sky, a rare clear and cold evening. The milky way stared back. As always, he was confronted by the enormity up there, the majesty, the existence-questioning vastness.

He knew John saw it differently, that it inspired him in a different way, and Virgil respected that, encouraged it, even. He felt he almost understood it.

Almost.

“Beautiful night, if a little cold.”

John grunted an acknowledgement, his frown solely for whatever it was he was doing.

Virgil glanced at the code and while he was no newbie to computer programming and could hold his own when needed, this was something else, another dimension and it meant nothing.

“I hope you’re not taking down a country this time.”

“No, just an organisation.”

Virgil reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “John-“

“Don’t say it, Virgil.” The words were punctuated by gestures that flung variables across the screen.

“Say what?”

“The speech about good and bad and crossing lines. They crossed the line first.”

A sigh. “Bad guys do that.”

Another variable was tossed, this time with no shortage of frustration. “And apparently we let them do it.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way.” Damn, it was cold up here.

John turned to him at that, his profile lit up by the blues and yellows of the hologram, making him look somewhat dark and ominous. “So, what would you call it, Virgil? I have the power to do stop this right now and I can’t.”

“Because that would be wrong.”

“It’s not that black and white, never has been.”

“It is pretty clear what is right and wrong in this situation.”

“Really? So, you think it is fine for me to cross the legal line to save someone else, but not to save ourselves.”

Virgil stared at his brother. John’s eyes were almost the colour of the dark sky in this lighting, his copper hair teased by the lack of a full light spectrum and much darker and shadowy than the flame it usually was.

It was scarily appropriate.

“I think...we need to do what is right.”

John stared at him a moment longer before turning back to the hologram. “Even if we lose everything?”

Virgil swallowed. “I don’t have all the answers, John.”

“Well, you’ll just have to excuse me if I refuse to wait for the questions.”

“Please don’t do anything rash.” It came down to pleading apparently.

John stopped, the variables dancing around by themselves as he turned to look at Virgil again.

“Do you trust me, Virgil?”

Blink. “With my life.”

“But not with this.” He waved his hand in the direction of the hologram.

“I-“

“You’re scared.”

“John-“

“And you don’t trust me, otherwise you wouldn’t be out here checking up on me.”

That crossed a line and Virgil shot to his feet. “I would be ‘checking up on you’ even if you were in bed asleep, John.” His frown deepened as he stared down at his brother. “I am concerned, yes.” He waved a hand towards the wing of the manor that held their rooms. “Scott...is angry. He might punch a hole in a wall. Gordon might evaporate the pool water due to friction. Alan...Alan doesn’t know what to do. You...you have Dad’s temper, but instead of striking out, you channel it, put it to a purpose and yes, I am worried exactly what that purpose might be. You’re angry, I understand. But there are lines, John.”

John rose slowly to his feet. “And you think I’ll cross them?”

A step closer. “I know, you’ll cross them.” He grabbed those dark eyes with his own. “You’ve done it before.”

“Virgil-“

“No. Hear me out.” His finger came out, pointing in admonishment. “I understand it, John, believe me, I do. But you do not get to sacrifice yourself for the rest of us.”

“I’m not-“

“You get caught and it is all gone, John. All of it, Five, your freedom, everything! I will not lose you to these assholes.”

“You don’t think I can do it.”

For the love of-! “Oh, I know you can do it. Just don’t. Not yet.”

John took a step back. “That’s not your call.”

Virgil nodded once. “No. But it is not yours either. It’s Scott’s. He is still processing.”

John’s lips thinned. He was never one for outbursts of anger, but Virgil could see it swimming in his eyes.

“It’s frustrating, I know.”

His brother physically deflated. “You have no idea.” The man folded back down, drawing the blanket around himself like a shield. “You don’t have to listen to it, read it, see it. They are...” John looked away a moment. “...bastards.”

“Ask Eos to filter.”

A blink. “Eos?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a good choice.” He turned back to the hologram.

Another frown. “Why?”

John looked up again. “Because she is as pissed off as I am and far more capable of destroying the people responsible.”

“What?”

His brother stared at him, his turn to frown. “Aren’t you angry, Virgil?”

“Of course, I’m angry.”

John continued to gaze up at him a moment longer, his lips thinning, before shaking his head and turning back to his hologram.

“John, promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”

Put upon. “Define drastic.”

“John-“

“Fine. I won’t do anything ‘drastic’.” There were finger quotes.

He felt like he was talking to Gordon.

Virgil let out a frustrated sigh. A moment of indecision before he sat back down beside his brother and looked up at the stars. God, it was cold.

“You staying out here?”

“Yep.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“Don’t care.”

John grunted and suddenly half the blanket was dumped in his lap. “Wrap yourself up or Grandma will be after both of us.”

A grunt of acknowledgement and Virgil found himself curled up beside John. His brother continued to play with the hologram. Virgil still had no idea what it was.

He would have to trust John.

And he did.

Enough that he fell asleep on the roof while staring up at the stars.

-o-o-o-


	8. Chapter 8

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Scott, it just happened, okay?” John. A grumpy John.

“Grandma is on the war path.”

“It’s Virgil. She’ll take one look at him and go soft.”

“That doesn’t protect us.” Exasperated and tired. “We either wake him up or attempt to lug him inside.”

“You want to wake up Virgil?” It was said with the same tone as ‘Are you insane?’

“Your choice, Grandma or Virgil, either way we’re toast.”

Virgil’s eyes were closed, but he still managed to roll them. He groaned and realised he was lying on a mixture of hard, cold, warm and soft.

“Virg?”

Another grunt. The trek between bed and coffee was a trial he had to endure every day.

Coffee?

The air was cold, biting even, but there was the faint scent of his addiction.

He opened his eyes.

A large mug of the blessed substance was being held by a hand. The hand may have belonged to Scott, but that barely registered.

“Ah, there you are.” His brother smiled down at him. “I know you miss John sometimes, but using him as a pillow?”

Virgil grunted. He was indeed using his brother as a pillow. At some point last night, he must have zonked out and curled up with the only heat source.

His butt was a frozen brick.

Movement proved stiff and he found himself creaking as he tried to sit up. John helped him with a gentle shove.

The hologram was gone, but the sun wasn’t yet up. Pre-dawn gave just enough light to outline his eldest brother dressed in his usual blue shirt. The shadows added canyons to his eyes and Virgil doubted the man had slept at all.

The fact John was still sitting exactly where he had been when Virgil fell asleep pretty much proved his space brother hadn’t slept either.

They had the excuse that the manor was almost on the direct opposite side of the planet to Tracy Island so night was technically day, but still...

Coffee.

The mug was shoved into his hands without a word and he took it gratefully. Hot liquid poured down his throat and triggered brain function.

The reasons why he was sleeping on a roof in England came to the fore.

His eyes caught Scott’s and found a determination that had been muted by distress the night before. His brother was bleeding resolution.

A glance at John and he found a reflection of Scott in turquoise.

A decision had been made.

Virgil straightened, his hands sucking heat from the mug.

“Tell me.”

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

They left England shortly after breakfast, Thunderbird Two lifting beyond the sound dampening and camouflage provided by the manor security system a split second before Virgil engaged her rear thrusters and tore across the English Channel.

International Rescue had automatic clearance worldwide, each air control she passed pinging automatically until she rose above domestic navigation heights.

His family sat beside him and behind him. Scott, of course, called shotgun, Gordon glaring at him the entire time. John sat behind him alongside the aquanaut. Alan sat even further back and was being lectured by Grandma regarding his manners at the manor over breakfast. The flat expression on Alan’s face screamed bored tolerance. Virgil made a mental note to speak to his little brother later regarding the incident of the stolen pancakes.

And everything else.

Brains was down in the module, using the time to run a systems check on the pod assembly machinery, while Kayo had disappeared off to find some privacy. As to what she was doing, Virgil didn’t have a clue and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

As to what he and his brothers were doing, he knew about just as much. John had done something overnight, Virgil was sure of it, but his brother refused to admit to anything. It was a worry and Virgil had every intention of interrogating his brother further.

But Scott was distracting him. His eldest brother had obviously decided on something, but had yet to say anything.

Conversation was minimal the entire trip back to the Island.

Upon landing, they all went their different ways. John immediately headed up to Five, Virgil barely able to give him a brief hug goodbye. Gordon claimed he was going to work on Four, but disappeared into his office, a place he usually had to be locked in when work was waiting to be done. The engineer almost followed him, but the glare Gordon sent his way as he took the first step was a clear indicator that he needed time to himself.

Virgil sighed.

Grandma took Alan under her wing and dragged him into the kitchen, possibly a fate worse than death. Virgil would have attempted a rescue, but Scott was acting weird and the alarm bells were deafening.

His eldest brother was filing a flight plan for Tracy Two with Aotearoa Air Control.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Jack.”

“Why?”

Scott looked at him. “Why do you think?”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “I might know if you told me.” It was unnerving not to know what the hell was going on.

The two of them usually shared everything IR related. Scott was the Commander, but Virgil was his second. That was the way it worked.

The expression his brother shot his way was considering, as if he was unsure Virgil was up to it.

Now that just pissed him off.

“What?!”

“That bruise is purpling quite dramatically.”

What the hell? “What aren’t you telling me, Scott?”

Thinned lips. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust me on this.”

Virgil stared at his brother. What was he hiding? What wasn’t he telling him?

But Scott was right. Virgil trusted his brother more than anyone on this planet.

“You want to come with?”

Blink. Non-sequitur. “You want me to come with you to see Jack?”

“Sure.”

All ready to muscle his way into the meeting unwanted, Virgil mentally stumbled.

His brother’s blue eyes sparkled.

Virgil felt like kicking him in the shins. What the hell was he playing at?

“See you in the hangar in ten.” Scott smirked and, grabbing his tablet off their father’s desk, headed out of the room.

-o-o-o-


	9. Chapter 9

“I recommend you shut down operations.”

Virgil stared at Jack. Beside him, Scott shifted slightly, the only indication of his surprise as his walls slammed shut.

Damn.

They were standing in Jack’s office, halfway up a high rise in the middle of Auckland. The room was comfortable, but not opulent. Some amazing landscapes hung on the walls, painted by Jack himself. They always caught Virgil’s eyes when he visited. The array of Aotearoa scenes, from the South Island mountains thru to one of Mount Taranaki and its iconic volcanic cone, were stunning in his opinion. Jack didn’t paint often, but he was damn good at it.

The lawyer held up his hands. “Scott, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But having looked at the pieces in play, you do not want to take these people on.”

“Explain.” Scott’s voice was ever so cold.

Jack’s eyes darted to Virgil and back to Scott.

What?

“Rumour has it that International Rescue is going to be held accountable for damages that have occurred over at least the last year. Starting with the hotel that fell out of orbit and ending with the debris that hit the United States after the comet incident.”

“Rumour?” Scott’s voice was tight.

Jack tilted his head to one side and back. “I have my sources, you know that. They are reliable.” He lowered his hands. “Scott, you save a lot of lives, we both know this, but there has been a lot of property damage in the process. Whoever is behind all this is leveraging that as a way to get what they want.”

“What do they want?”

“That, I don’t know. But from a legal standing, shutting down operations is the best option. Not forever, but until this is sorted out.”

“No.” It was as cold as the Arctic in winter.

Virgil reacted without thinking, his hand landing on his brother’s arm. “Scott-“

“No! We are not shutting down.”

Jack shifted where he stood. Scott’s temper was nothing new to him. “Hear me out. You are billionaires, yes, but the money we are talking about in these lawsuits will shut you down, whether you want to or not. Someone is pulling strings. Strings in the media. Strings in the government. Strings in the GDF. They want International Rescue shutdown and so far, they’ve taken the right steps to do exactly that.” A breath and a worried glance up at Scott and Virgil. “Pause operations. Don’t give them any more fuel until we can work this out. My legal team is focussed, we are out there, we just need a little time.”

“So, we are supposed to sit back and let people die when we could save them?”

“You have to do what you have to do to survive. If you don’t, even more will die when International Rescue no longer exists.”

Scott stared at the man.

Virgil watched his brother. He watched as the facts sunk in. He watched as his eyes turned inward for that familiar decision-making process. He saw the decision made.

He didn’t need to. He already knew what Scott’s answer would be.

“No. I’m sorry, Jack.” It was Scott’s turn to hold up his hands as Jack opened his mouth again. “It is your turn to trust me.” Blue eyes pinned the shorter man. “You know what is at stake here.”

Jack’s eyes darted to Virgil and back.

Virgil frowned and opened his mouth, but Jack cut him off. “I know, Scott. But you also know what I think.”

Scott straightened, drawing in a breath. “Trust me, I do.” His brother relaxed his stance. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll do my best, but I can’t let this slide.”

The lawyer’s shoulders dropped. “Didn’t think you would, but I had to try. We will have your legal back as much as we can, but honestly, I can’t guarantee success.”

Scott reached out and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

Feeling like little more than a lightning-fried spectator, Virgil was surprised when his brother turned to him. “Virg?”

John’s voice, firm and urgent, interrupted before Virgil could even open his mouth. “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

-o-o-o-


	10. Chapter 10

Virgil made it home before he threw up.

He kept it together that long only because he had to.

A skyscraper in the middle of New York suffering structural collapse, likely due to poor materials and design.

The GDF gave their hall pass surprisingly easily. Gordon and Alan picked up Virgil and Scott in One and Two respectively. Most of Auckland stared up at the top of Jack’s building as the two ‘birds swooped in to collect their primary pilots before shooting off across the Pacific.

There were people trapped and tonnes of concrete threatening their lives. Two and her heavy lifting were called into play, her grapples and VTOL hauling away chunks while Scott, Alan and Gordon darted in and pulled people out. Virgil spent most of the rescue scanning and calculating lifts. Several of the slabs of concrete skimmed along the edge of Two’s capability, but Virgil made it work.

It was what he did.

It was his skill set.

Someone banged on the door of his bathroom and Virgil bowed his head over the toilet bowl, screwing his eyes shut.

How had it happened?

How?

God, how?

“Virgil!”

Scott.

It was always Scott.

He didn’t answer.

“Damnit, Virgil, open the door.”

His calculations had been correct. Two should have been able to lift that last chunk of concrete. Sure, it had been most of a floor, but Virgil knew his ‘bird, he knew the structural limits of the material, he had scanned it within an inch of its existence, the math was there...

Bile rose in his throat again and he dry heaved into the bowl.

“Virgil!”

She had lifted it. He heard the strain on her engines. He knew there was something wrong, but she had already raised the concrete off the building.

Scanners repeated the safe levels.

Two wailed. The sound defying the information he was receiving.

The icons that were his brothers darted under the concrete slab and his instincts joined in the screaming.

His yell over comms had hurt his throat as the grapples shouted a warning.

His brothers’ acknowledgements.

Sixty-three people dead as Two lost her grip and the concrete came down, the movement destabilising the fragile supports below and crushing the floor.

Scott and Gordon barely made it out.

Alan didn’t, dragged from the edge of the rubble with a concussion and broken leg.

Lucky.

Lucky.

Virgil let his forehead drop to the edge of the ceramic seat, his breathing harsh in his ears.

The door behind him was kicked open.

Footsteps on the tiles and hands on his shoulders. “Virgil.”

A breath turned into a sob and those hands turned him around, drawing him into a blue wrapped embrace. “Alan’s going to be okay.”

Virgil knew that. He had hung Two in the sky, rappelled down, scooped his brother out of the concrete dust and up to their medbay. Gordon had come with him while Scott managed the hell that Virgil couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

The fact he had killed sixty-three people.

Sixty-three people.

Scott’s arms tightened around him.

There had been little left to do other than recover bodies.

He made it home. Saw to his little brother. Set Grandma on him. Ignored the fear on Gordon’s face.

He made it home, but the first moment he had to think...

Sixty-three people.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The sound that answered that statement was more whimper than anything else. Numbers ran through his mind, shunting into automatic columns, calculating. They all matched up correctly, the results saying that what happened, shouldn’t have happened.

“Brains has checked your calculations. You were right. The weight was well within Two’s limits.”

Sixty-three people.

When he didn’t answer, those arms tightened even more. “John is on it. Brains is on it. We will find out what went wrong.”

Sixty-three people.

“You are not to blame.”

Sixty-three people.

His shoulders dropped, his weight falling onto his brother. “Then who is?” It was tired and wrenched from him.

Scott’s shoulder shifted under his cheek. “I don’t know. But I _will_ find out.”

His brother’s tone was so cold it broke through Virgil’s pain and froze his heart.

-o-o-o-


	11. Chapter 11

Scott was adamant that he needed rest.

That it wasn’t his fault.

That he would fix it.

But it was this last thought that prevented Virgil from giving into his grief.

Fear of what his brothers might do.

He trusted his family ever so much, but Scott was fiery, Gordon somewhat deadly and John...he closed his eyes.

They would do so much for love.

So, coming to a resolution, he threw his brother off, cleaned himself up and forced his body to do what he needed it to do.

He ignored his shaking hands.

A visit to his littlest brother in the infirmary, Scott on his heels. Alan was sleeping ever so quietly. His face peaceful. Almost...

His fingers tightened around his little brother’s cool hand.

“He’s going to be okay, Virgil.” Scott’s voice was soft.

Virgil didn’t comment. He placed Alan’s hand back on the covers, turned and walked out.

There was an argument in progress when he stepped into the comms room. Gordon’s tones bordering on insubordinate. John’s holographic but calm words cutting across his brother.

“What is going on here?” Scott’s voice was sharp.

Gordon’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Johnny here, says we are going to shut down.”

“We are.”

Gordon froze at Scott’s words. “What? I thought you said...”

“They’ve succeeded, Gordon. Whoever they are, they’ve succeeded.” The silence that followed was punctuated by only the waves in the distance, the breeze and the occasional bird.

“But-“

“For now.” And there it was. The fire. “We shutdown, for now. We find out who did this.”

More silence.

“Then what do we do?” Gordon’s eyes were almost glowing.

“Stop them from doing it again.”

Virgil was standing slightly behind his eldest brother, to his left. The tension in the man’s shoulder was so tightly wound it looked bone breaking.

“How did they do it?” It was a quiet voice and a shadow of its usual baritone depth.

John’s holographic eyes darted to Virgil. They focussed and examined him as if his space brother could pull vital stats simply by staring hard enough. “The slab was borderline in weight. I had our New York agent do another scan from a distance. The weight is different. Not by much, but enough.”

“I scanned it multiple times. It was within tolerances.”

“Not according our agent’s scans.” John pulled up Two’s scan results and set them alongside the report from New York.

The numbers were different. Not by much. But enough to strain Two beyond her capabilities.

The math danced in his head. He would never have attempted a lift with those numbers.

The numbers blurred a moment. “How?”

John’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure. Kayo is undercover on scene. Lady Penelope is on her way.” Turquoise eyes caught his. “We will find out.”

There must have been something on his face, because Scott’s hand was suddenly on his arm. “We will find those responsible.”

Sixty-three people.

Something ignited in his belly.

“Yes, we will.”

-o-o-o-

All three brothers sat down on the lounge, Scott directly next to Virgil and Gordon one seat over.

They were hovering.

He shunted the reason why aside.

Staring up at his holographic brother, he found himself missing John in the flesh. Instinct wanted to draw his family close and keep them safe from whatever the hell was going on, but John, as always, was far, far above them.

Alone.

“Can I tell him now?”

Well, maybe not quite alone.

“Eos!”

“It’s not fair to Virgil. You tell me to be honest and open and yet you treat your brother like this? Not very consistent at all.”

Virgil stared at John and his brother suddenly appeared uncomfortable.

Turquoise eyes darted to Virgil’s left...and back.

On Virgil’s right, Gordon sat up straight. “What is going on?”

Already barely composed, Virgil continued to stare up at John as the astronaut fidgeted before sighing and letting his shoulders drop. His eyes darted once again to Virgil’s left and the engineer knew who was truly hiding something.

Honestly, he had had his suspicions. Scott had been acting weird since London and the roof.

Hovering.

Was it logical to avoid looking at his eldest brother? As if not seeing eye to eye could avoid discovering something he knew he really didn’t want to know.

But he did.

“What did you find out?” The words were pushed through his larynx and his vocal cords creaked.

“Virgil-“

He spun where he sat. “For fuck’s sake, Scott, what is it?!”

Shocked silence as blue eyes widened. One advantage of being the sensible and stable one was when you did crack, it had impact.

Calmer. “What are you hiding from me?”

Young and flippant. “It’s quite simple really-“

“Eos!” John’s tone was sharp enough to cut cahelium.

Virgil turned back to his holographic brother. “No, John. Let her speak.”

“Virgil-“

He cut his brother off. “Eos, report!”

“Okay.” Her high-pitched voice was almost eager with glee. “I found something. It was quite a challenge. Triple layer encryption, hidden, not even on a hard-wired network. I had to sneak in on a mobile connection and decode onsite.” She was obviously quite proud of herself. “John was impressed.”

John obviously wasn’t quite as impressed right now, his arms folded across his chest, his expression both sad and pissed off at the same time.

Virgil forced what little calm he had left. “What did you find, Eos?”

“Notes. From a meeting. Not very legible. Her handwriting is atrocious.”

“Whose?”

“Councillor Wainwright. Honestly, her phone is a mess.”

“You hacked a World Security Council phone?”

“Hmph. Hacked is such a human concept. I simply visited.”

He refused to look at Scott. Refused. “What did you find?”

“A photo of notes. A short list of International Rescue’s vulnerabilities.”

“Vulnerabilities?” Gordon was definitely stoking a fire. Virgil was unsure whether the note-taker or a couple of brothers were going to be the ones roasted. “What vulnerabilities?”

A photograph of scrawled notes appeared beside John. Paper was rare and obviously used for security reasons, but to then photograph it and turn it digital…someone was an idiot.

Virgil frowned at the barely legible handwriting. The letters ‘IR’ were scribbled at the top, Five Tracy names scrawled below, each crossed out except for Virgil. Scott’s and Gordon’s name had the word military in capital letters next to them. ‘Space’ was written next to John and Alan.

Further down the page, almost at random in relation to the rest of the scribble, was the word ‘Vulnerabilities’. Underneath was a list. A very short list.

  1. Popular opinion
  2. Political standing
  3. Virgil Tracy



Something else was scrawled next to his name, but it was illegible having been crossed out quite vehemently.

Virgil swallowed. “Who wrote this?”

It was John who spoke up, his voice wary and a little hesitant. “Handwriting matches Wainwright’s.”

“Why?”

“It’s bullshit, Virgil.” Finally, Scott said something.

Virgil turned to face him. “Yet, you hid it from me.” The hovering. The visit to Jack.

Jack.

“You told Jack.”

“Of course, I told Jack.” Scott threw himself to his feet, obviously unable to contain himself any longer. “It’s a threat from the government. Our own government, Virgil.”

John cut in. “No, it is from one councillor.”

“One bitch.” Gordon was on his feet now, echoing his eldest brother with his furious energy, unable to keep still. “Wainwright obviously has an agenda. An agenda that doesn’t care about those sixty-three people!”

Virgil flinched.

“We have no proof that Wainwright is connected to today’s incident.”

“Circumstances disagree, John.” Gordon was glaring up at his holographic brother. “I find it hard to believe that Thunderbird Two’s scanners being messed with and the resultant media shitstorm is not related to this. Too much of a coincidence. They’re targeting Virg to take us down!”

“Gordon!” Scott’s voice cut across the room.

Virgil let it all wash over him. He was being used, he was a vulnerability, but that wasn’t the important thing.

Not important.

Not important.

He pushed himself to his feet. Gravity seemed more of an opponent than usual. He straightened up, looking up at his holographic brother as if he was some deity offering answers.

“Why?”

“You’re not a vulnerability, Virgil.” John’s voice was soft and concerned.

Virgil had no patience for it and waved it away. “No, why are they doing this? Why does someone, Wainwright or whoever, want us out of the picture?”

“Because they want to replace us.” Eos’ voice was far too chirpy and bright for the topic of conversation.

“Eos, tact.”

“What? Oh. Sorry. Please let me rephrase.” A moment that allowed John’s lips to thin just that touch more, the tightly strung muscles in his shoulders prominent enough to stand out in relief despite his uniform. “There is a possibility that the World Security Council is seeking expressions of interest from business entities interested in providing first responder services for the government.”

Virgil blinked.

Beside him, Scott shifted. “What? John? Explain.” Virgil didn’t have to look at Scott to know the frown would be cavernous.

Their space brother sighed. “Eos has tracked a number of gaps in calendars, meetings that didn’t happen, several coincidences that are far too coincidental to be genuine. Lady Creighton-Ward Senior contacted me about half an hour ago with some information that confirmed my suspicions.” There was something in John’s expression.

Scott frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

John looked down a moment as if steeling himself. “You know Lady Penelope identified several upper echelon GDF suspects following the Janus incident.” His eyes latched onto Scott’s as if in challenge. “What you don’t know is that we have had them under surveillance since that time.”

“We?” Scott’s tone was cold.

“IR security.” John’s tone was unapologetic. “Kayo, Lady Penelope and myself. There were things we needed to know.”

“And I didn’t?”

“Not at the time.” John shrugged, but Virgil could see it was forced nonchalance. There would be discussions later, but to be honest, Virgil hadn’t expected anything less.

Virgil ignored Scott. “Who is involved?”

“Wainwright, General Strond and the CEO of Robotics Industries, Jim Lucas. Eos has only just now collected enough data to confirm the connection. Lady Creighton-Ward’s advice backed up the conclusion.”

Scott was a pent-up explosion waiting to happen beside him.

Virgil just felt numb. He held out a hand. “So, these people want us replaced. They’ve found our...weaknesses...” Gordon literally snarled beside him. “...and they have succeeded in shutting us down. The question remains...why?!” And if that last syllable came out louder and a little more desperate, so be it.

John shrugged. “As Parker said, ‘Power’.” His brother frowned and looked off to his left, a hand poking hidden buttons. “And, I suspect, control. We are free agents, not under any direct chain of command. We are an unpredictable variable. You do realise how much power we can wield, Virgil?”

Virgil let his shoulders drop. Power, other than to help people, really wasn’t something he cared about, but John was right. The IR logo inspired a lot.

Or it used to.

He sat back down on the sofa and rubbed his face with his hands.

His military brothers remained standing. Gordon started pacing, the aquanaut’s furious energy spilling over onto the floorboards.

Scott looked like he wanted to stab someone.

Virgil was busy not thinking about the sixty-three people he had killed just because some asshole wanted to control-

“So, what do we do?” Gordon was standing almost on Scott’s toes. “We can’t just sit here.”

“I’m aware of that, Gordon.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Russet-brown eyes stared up at their eldest brother and Virgil found himself hoping to god that the commander had an answer.

“We shutdown, lick our wounds and bide our time.” Gordon opened his mouth and Scott held up his hand. “For now.” It was firm and demanded no argument.

Gordon let out a disgusted sound, but deflated.

Scott turned back to John. “Thunderbird Five, you will send me a _full_ report...immediately.”

“FAB.”

“Gordon, contact Brandy. Enquire with caution, but find out if WASP has any information on the topic. We do not want to alert those involved that we know what we know. Be subtle.”

Gordon grunted. “I can be subtle.”

Scott’s mutter was non-committal. “Virgil, you need rest-“

“No. I’ll be in the hangars repairing Two.” He stood up and turned towards the elevator.

“Virgil-“

“NO!” Both his hands were up, defensive. “No, Scott, I’m...I’m just going to fix my ‘bird.” He didn’t give his brother any more time to protest, spinning on his heels and stalking out of the room.

He didn’t bother to look back.

-o-o-o-


	12. Chapter 12

Virgil buried himself in work.

He overhauled Two’s grappling system, re-installed the associated engines, cables and did a service check on the magnets and grabs.

He went through every circuit, vent and fuel line in her VTOL system.

He scanned her hull until each of the molecules became an old friend. She had strained herself, yes, but she had survived.

Survived.

Thoughts he didn’t want to think intruded again.

So, he started a thruster overhaul.

It was a sign that it was the sixteen-hour mark before Scott dragged him out of the hangars. His brother was usually much earlier than that.

But Scott looked as wrecked as Virgil felt and the circumstances were anything but usual.

He was sent to bed.

He didn’t sleep.

Next morning, he was up and down there again.

As the days passed, the condition of his ‘bird became inversely proportional to his own.

Virgil Tracy had a lot of experience with all-nighters. His job called for it. But by the fifth day of no sleep, little food and all the work he could find he reached his limit.

He was under his ‘bird, poking at her foot when the wrench fell. It was loud as it clattered on the concrete. His hand closed around empty air as if astonished the tool wasn’t still in his palm.

Staring down at it, the dull shine of its steel in the light shaft from above caught his eyes and held them there.

“Virg?”

Turning, he found Gordon sitting on the port-side landing strut.

His brother was looking up at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

A blink. “Servicing her landing gear.”

“Obviously, but you know that is not what I am referring to.”

Gordon’s hair had such a soft shine in this light.

“Huh?”

Gordon sighed. “C’mere, bro. Sit down.” He patted the green cahelium beside him.

Virgil took a step forward, but then remembered why he was servicing landing gear and stopped. “No, I’ve got to get this done. We might be called out.”

“We’re not getting called out, Virg, and you know it. It has been five days. We are shut down. No one is asking for our help.”

Virgil stared at the fallen wrench again.

Another sigh and Gordon pushed himself to his feet. Closing the distance between them, he put both of his hands on Virgil’s biceps, fingers wrapping around the bunched and filthy flannel of his rolled up sleeves. Gordon tried to catch his eyes, but Virgil stared stubbornly at the wrench, not willing to face his little brother.

“What the hell are you doing, Virg? Scott is beside himself with worry, Alan has been asking after you every half hour and Johnny’s on the verge of coming down himself to drag you out of here.” He glanced up at the massive green presence above them. “Two has never been healthier. She doesn’t need you right now. But we do.”

That distracted him from the wrench and he found himself caught by eyes so much like his own they hurt. “Gords...”

His little brother tilted his head to one side and smiled a crooked smile. “You know what happens when the rest of us are left to our own devices, don’t you?” And suddenly there was passion in Gordon’s eyes. “We need you, Virg. You’re our strength. In so many ways. If you won’t listen to your own body, if you won’t listen to Scott, please listen to this. Without you, there is no International Rescue.” The hands on his arms tightened almost to bruising strength. “Please stop this.”

His hands twitched, needing to do something. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to...

“Virgil!”

He startled and realised his eyes had dropped to the floor again. So tired.

“Look at me.” He forced his eyes upward and was caught by Gordon’s frown. “It’s me or Grandma. Scott had to hold her back or she would be down here with your ear between her fingers dragging you into the elevator.” He smirked. “Of course, if you like, I can provide a similar service.” He snapped two fingers together and pantomimed grabbing Virgil’s ear.

Virgil screwed up his face.

Gordon let the hand drop. “C’mon, Virg. We need you. Please?”

-o-o-o-

There was no way he could ignore his little brother’s request. Guilt wormed its way into his heart as Gordon led him from the hangars, one hand still holding tight to filthy flannel.

The worm turned into a serpent the moment he was dragged into the comms room.

Scott sat at their father’s desk, a holographic news channel condemning him from above. His usually perfect hair was mussed by the fingers gripping it.

A politician was yelling at a reporter. “Sixty-three people! How many more will we find if we dig deeper? How many more is the Tracy Empire hiding? How many more deaths could have been avoided?”

The report cut to the presenter. “While the GDF remains quiet on the topic, several world councillors have made their opinion clear, demanding an investigation into International Rescue’s conduct before more lives are lost.”

The program switched to an advert before Gordon scampered over and killed the connection.

Scott’s head shot up and Virgil was horrified. His brother appeared years older than he should, his face pale, eyes red...Virgil was moving before he could finish a thought.

“Scott...” He crouched down beside the chair and pulled it around to face him.

Blue eyes blinked and Scott frowned. “Virg, you look like shit.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“You okay?” And there was the big brother concern.

No.

But... “I feel I should be asking you that question.”

Scott’s frown deepened and he looked away. “The board is on my back to shut down permanently. The media is ripping us to shreds. There are lawsuits. Jack is running himself ragged putting out fires. Virg...” Those eyes caught his again. “I think this might be it. I thought...I thought if we just kept going...”

Gordon cut him off, voice firm. “We will keep going.”

Scott glanced at him before reaching over and poking the holoprojector controls. A man in a spotless GDF uniform glared at the camera. “Colonel Valerie Casey has been arrested and charged with colluding with outside forces, concealing information and impeding an investigation.”

Virgil choked.

-o-o-o-


	13. Chapter 13

From that point onwards, it was all about family.

Virgil threw himself into looking after his brothers with the same vigour he looked after his ‘bird the five days previous.

There was guilt, so much guilt. He had put himself over his brothers, ignored them even and hid away nursing his own wounds.

Gordon yelled at him about it, but Virgil was focussed on Scott. He had never seen his big brother so down. It was almost as if his fire had been extinguished.

John refused to leave orbit, determined to deploy as much energy and equipment he could into fixing this mess. Virgil let him be. For now. He had plans to later climb up into orbit himself to check on his space brother. He had no doubt the astronaut was running himself into the ground.

Alan was recovering and for lack of a better description, reminded Virgil of a pissed off terrier. Angry as all hell and willing to take on the neighbourhood great dane.

There were words.

Emotional words.

Alan continued to snarl.

But his little brother was now mobile and buzzing around the house in a hover chair. Grandma was keeping an eye on him.

Grandma was keeping an eye on all of them.

Virgil got one hell of a talking to about looking after himself and received chicken soup as punishment. At least he thought it was chicken soup. The cucumber was confusing.

Kayo was simply gone. On the other side of the planet, most likely. Virgil didn’t know exactly where. The few times she contacted the Island, he grilled her on her health status and was ignored for the most part.

Virgil worried.

About all of them.

It hit Scott the hardest. The commander saw it simply. He saw it as failure.

This was their father’s dream and somehow it had all crashed and burned. Virgil regretted his absence in those first days more and more. If he had been there to support Scott...

But he wasn’t.

He cursed himself in every language he knew.

Gordon was almost as much a concern as Scott. The aquanaut was fuming. No sorrow, no fear, just anger. He spent most of his time in contact with various people and Virgil had the urge to ask John to monitor his fish brother’s communications in case he was planning a world coup of some kind.

But as the days wore on the picture of exactly what was happening did become clearer.

The scathing media continued. Jack reported in almost daily, apparently his entire practice had been mobilised across several attack fronts. They were winning several, but the battle appeared to be a long one.

One of the worst moments was when a hurricane hit the Bahamas and Florida. IR was refused deployment, no matter what angle John tried. The astronaut directed calls to emergency services as best he could, even called in a few Tracy favours from the Jacksonville plant of Tracy Industries, their machinery switching to emergency supplies and relief production to help the people in the beleaguered cities to the south, but even that received a rebuttal. The head of GDF communications cut into IR frequencies and demanded Thunderbird Five cease interference.

Virgil had never heard John so angry.

Scott was as cold as the Arctic. “Do as they ask.”

“Scott-“

“Do as they ask!” Blue eyes like ice, Scott’s expression was stone.

So, theoretically, Five stood down.

Virgil was on the elevator within the half hour.

Eos pummelled him with questions all the way through the stratosphere and into space. John had stopped answering apparently, so she was looking for another Tracy to help.

Virgil stepped onto a silent Five.

“Where is he, Eos?”

“Communications hub. I honestly don’t understand, Virgil. Why would they do this? John is trying to help.”

Virgil’s lips thinned as he strode to the airlock that separated the gravity ring from the central hub. John had to know he was there, yet, there was no greeting, no acknowledgement.

Virgil drifted through the lock to find that Five had most certainly not shut down.

His brother floated in a sea of information. Aunt Val’s picture cruised past. Another document with the GDF logo at the top darted over Virgil’s head as his brother threw it across the room.

“Eos, I need the results from breach fifty-nine.”

“Not until you rest.” Eos’ voice was determined. “And now I have Virgil to help me look after you.”

Turquoise flickered in the engineer’s direction. “Virgil.” It was a greeting and a dare all rolled into one.

“What are you doing, John?”

His astronaut brother wove code with one hand while reaching for a document with the word ‘classified’ stamped across its header. “Exactly what you suspect I’m doing, no doubt.”

“John, I thought we had an agreement.”

“You thought you did. I’m only doing what needs to be done.” The coding hand finished something off and with a swipe sent it on its way.

It was replaced with a scroll of information, rapidly accumulating in a simulated pile.

John smiled thinly at it before turning to face his brother.

“What do you want, Virgil?”

If Virgil had been in a gravity affected situation, he would have taken a step back. As it was, he hadn’t gotten his space legs quite yet and was reduced to a half-strangled gasp.

John was ever so pale, his eyes little more than caverns, his usually perfect hair looked limp and straggly, hanging down over his face.

“Have you slept at all?!”

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” His brother returned to juggling information.

A beat and an incoming comm flashed up. “Johnny, Brandy says the orders have come down. The launch is set for next week. We should tell Scott.”

Virgil blinked.

A swipe of his hand and John answered. “No need, Gordon. You’ve just told Virgil.” A pause. “And don’t call me ‘Johnny’.”

The aquanaut startled as, no doubt, Virgil’s image appeared in his office alongside John. “Oh.” A shrug. “Hey, Virg. Whatcha doin’ up there?”

“What are you doing, Gordon?”

“What needs to be done.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Saving International Rescue. After all, ‘saving’ is what we do, isn’t it, Virgil? We don’t sit on the side-lines while people die.” The aquanaut poked at something out of transmission range. “Johnny, you gonna brief our big brother or let him dob us into Scott and tackle both explosions at once?”

“Gordon…” John’s voice spoke of exhaustion. “I will handle this.”

“FAB. Sending you Brandy’s report.” Another document flashed up, this one with the WASP logo at the top.

Hell.

Gordon’s hologram held his stare for a moment before blinking out.

“John?” Virgil put every bit of big brother he had into the name. He wasn’t Scott, but he hoped he was enough.

The astronaut sighed.

“General Strom has commissioned a new rescue force for the GDF.” John waved a hand and an array of aircraft and equipment appeared, floating in the recycled air. “They’ve called it ‘World Rescue’ and on the surface it appears legitimate. Brains is even impressed with some of the technology.”

Brains? Brains was in on this as well?

Virgil eyed the largest ship in the list. It was no Thunderbird Two, but it appeared formidable. “They don’t have our technology.”

John frowned. “No, they don’t…yet.”

Virgil mirrored his brother’s expression. “What?”

Another sigh and John flicked through a series of documents. “Lady Amelia traced the source of the equipment to a project initiated about the same time we lost Dad. It appears that even then, these people had their eyes on us.”

“But why? Running a rescue organisation is not a money-making exercise. We both know that from experience.”

“It is if you are the only one.”

“But-“

A hand caught his shoulder and Virgil’s eyes widened. John was definitely tired if he was reaching out. “Even if they don’t charge for the service, the GDF will gain popularity. Our popularity, Virgil. We have a huge fan following. You know this.”

“But that is just for fun!”

“Virgil, popularity is the key. That list of our weaknesses is also a list of our strengths. The GDF’s popularity has been inversely proportional to ours. We’re stealing their thunder, literally. This has led to budget cuts and a drop in recruitment. They’ve lost money because of us.”

Virgil blinked.

“They want it back.” As Virgil continued to stare, John swallowed. “But that is only part of the equation.” John let go of Virgil’s shoulder. “The call for expressions of interest is a farce. They have a launch planned for the first fleet next week.”

“Next week?”

“To capitalise on our negative press. The world is calling for a replacement service and they are answering.”

“We’re being replaced.”

“By Jim Lucas and Robotics Industries. Eos has found connections between Lucas and Wainwright. Lucas went to college with her. Strond is the only part of this equation we haven’t been able to fully clarify. His is the position responsible for the project funding. Lady Amelia is working on it.” John’s shoulders dropped.

“You need sleep.”

“Virgil, this is important. Aunt Val is in the firing line because of us.” A frustrated sound. “Because of me.”

Virgil drew in a breath. He knew that their Aunt had turned a blind eye for them on several occasions, particularly where John’s fingers had poked into certain pies that perhaps they shouldn’t have. But John only did that to save lives. Aunt Val knew that. She was their support within the GDF and she took that position seriously.

Even Virgil knew enough to know that was why she had been removed from the picture.

Scott had been in contact. Had thrown Jack at her. Tracy money was doing its best to dig her out of the hole they had dug for her.

“She wouldn’t want you killing yourself over this.” Virgil kicked off the wall gently and caught his brother by his arm. “C’mon, John.”

“Virgil, get off me.” John wriggled in his grip.

The holographic display suddenly shut off, leaving the hub a bleak grey. “You’re not doing any more work, John. I have Five under control. Attend to your bodily needs.”

John pushed him away and Virgil let him. A turquoise glare hit him between the eyes.

“I can look after myself.” He glanced at the camera beside the airlock. “Just let me be. Both of you.”

“I tried that and look what happened.” The AI was defiant.

“Eos, turn the hub back on.”

“No.”

“Eos!”

“No! Listen to your brother, if you won’t listen to me. You need sleep and food. Your vitals are a mess.”

Virgil set himself. John could be as stubborn as the rest of them, and as slippery as an eel. “It can wait, John. You either sleep up here, or I drag you downstairs and you can deal with Scott.” Who was just as bad, but John didn’t need to know that.

“Virgil-“

“No, John. Food, then sleep. If Scott isn’t enough of a threat, I have a direct line to Grandma. Don’t think for one second that twenty-two thousand kilometres is enough to keep her out of your hair.”

Turquoise lit on fire. “Fine.”

Virgil wrapped an arm around his brother. “And after we will look at what we can do.”

John just grunted at him.

Virgil drew him closer and led him from the hub.

-o-o-o-


	14. Chapter 14

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” There was a crash and a thud that had Virgil running out of the elevator into the comms rooms at speed.

Scott stood next to their father’s desk as if he hadn’t left it in the time Virgil had been gone. The remains of a coffee cup were strewn across the hardwood floor, coffee still steaming in a spray reaching for the balcony.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil’s heart knotted itself enough to clog his breathing.

Furious blue stabbed at him. His brother slapped at the desk and yet another news report flickered into being.

_‘An oil tanker heading to Miami was caught in the approach of Hurricane Lucy earlier today. The tanker had been experiencing difficulties and was unable to avoid the incoming storm. It ran aground off the Florida Keys and dumped an estimated five million gallons of crude oil into the marine sanctuary. A crewmember died on the scene._

‘ _The captain claims multiple callouts were made to International Rescue with no response. And this is not the only disaster today that has gone unanswered._

_‘Questions are being asked if the organisation is purposefully ignoring calls for help in retaliation for the accusations made recently regarding the lives lost in New York.’_ Virgil’s eyes widened as a photo of himself in uniform appeared next to the reporter. _‘There has been a call out for criminal charges to be made against the pilot of Thunderbird Two, Virgil Tracy, in relation to the incident. Perhaps the Tracy family has gone into hiding. After all, International Rescue is famed for its hidden base in the South Pacific. How can these men face justice if we can’t find them?’_

Scott killed the report and glared at Virgil.

Virgil stared at the empty air where the hologram had been.

“John tried everything. They refused to allow us to fly.” The same brother who was working himself into an early grave trying to help people.

And now they were accused of purposefully letting people die.

For their own gain.

“How can they do this?” Virgil stared at his brother. “How...after all these years.” It just...the unfairness of it all just...hurt.

“Dad would never have stood for this.” Scott began pacing, leaving footprints where his shoes stepped in the coffee.

Grandma would have a fit.

“Damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.”

“Did you hear that?!” Gordon stormed into the room, Alan trailing behind him.

Scott kicked the remains of his coffee cup, extending the stain on the floorboards.

Virgil drew in a breath. “We heard it.”

Gordon stopped before he could step in the mess. “You know what? I say screw ‘em. We just keep doing what we are supposed to do, which is save lives.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “It doesn’t quite work that way, Gordon, and you know it.”

Furious carnelian glared at him. “Then what do you think we should do? Hide on our little island like they suggest?”

It hurt that Gordon would even think he was thinking such a thing, but his brother was angry. Fighting between themselves would only make this worse.

“Why don’t we tell the world our side of the story?” Alan piped up from behind Gordon, the hiss of his hover chair barely background noise. “Hold a press conference.”

Scott’s head shot up. International Rescue had never done such a thing. Tracy Industries, sure, publicity for a new line or product, but the brothers had never stood as one in full uniform. His eyes darted to Virgil and the engineer could see the fear in their depths.

Not fear for International Rescue.

Fear for Virgil.

The weakness.

Virgil straightened his spine. “I think that’s a good idea, Allie. I think facing our accusers might clear the air.”

“Virgil, the risk-“

“Is one I’m willing to take. This...” He pointed at the desk where the hologram had been. “This is just wrong. If we don’t speak up, the press will write our story and we will go down with whatever blame they choose. If I was wrong, I will face up to it.”

“You weren’t wrong, Virgil!” The words were thrown from his eldest brother as Gordon growled and Alan snarled in protest. “There was sabotage. There has to be! You don’t screw up like that.”

“I am most certainly not infallible. But regardless, this isn’t about me. This is about International Rescue and our right to save people who need saving. This is about Mom and Dad. If we shutdown permanently, they win!” He stabbed a finger at the absent holoprojection. “And I, for one, don’t care if I have to take the fall for this if it means that people who would otherwise die can be saved.” He swallowed. “I don’t know what Dad would have done, but that’s what _I_ think should be done.”

There was a silence when he stopped talking and Virgil realised he had been yelling over his brothers.

Scott was staring at him, strategic calculations spinning behind his eyes.

Perhaps a little strategy of his own was required. “Gordon, it is time you told Scott what you and John have discovered regarding ‘World Rescue’.”

Three sets of eyes targeted him a second before two of them turned and narrowed on the aquanaut.

“Gordon?” Scott’s tone was sharp. “Report!”

The briefest shift of Gordon’s feet, a glare at Virgil and he straightened, words delivered with military precision at the commander who took a step or two closer to his younger brother, glaring fit to toast his hair.

The specifics of their opponents became clear as Gordon relayed what John had told Virgil up on Five. The competition, the grab for money and power. The wrong doing being done to them by the government and the military.

The launch next week.

With every word, Scott’s tension increased. His eyes darted between Gordon and Virgil and the betrayal was raw. When Gordon finished outlining exactly what he and John had uncovered, those blue eyes returned to Virgil. “They can’t have you.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Scott-“

His brother held up his hands. “No, Virgil. This is wrong. I will not sacrifice you to some power-hungry assholes. This is wrong!”

Virgil glared at his brother and took a step closer. “Scott, I may be the weakness in this organisation, but I will not put myself above you or International Rescue. If I screwed up, so be it. I’ll pay for it.” He punctuated his words with a finger. “I will not let them take you all with me.” His lips thinned and he caught the eyes of his three brothers. “Call a press conference and we will tell the world our side of the story.”

-o-o-o-


	15. Chapter 15

Virgil had never felt so confined and uncomfortable in his uniform. His baldric was heavy and his collar itched. He shoved fingers between the material and his skin and scratched it raw.

“Stop that, honey.” A small hand reached up and pulled his hand away. He sighed and let his shoulders drop as Grandma wrapped her fingers around his.

They were standing in the foyer of Tracy Tower in Auckland. Scott had been determined that if the press wanted the story, they had to come to them. That and setting it up in public, in front of the massive feat of architecture and engineering most certainly helped to remind people of the power and money behind the Tracy brothers.

Virgil just hoped that they would also remember the good his family did on a daily basis. Not just through International Rescue, but via Tracy Industries itself - its technology, its philanthropy, its genuinely helpful contribution to the world.

They weren’t just another billionaire family.

They cared.

Grandma was straightening his collar, her actions a sign of her unease more so than her words. “We will get through this, Virgil.”

He wrapped his hands around hers and stilled their nervous movements, attempting to catch her eyes. “Yes, Grandma, we will.”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, we will.” A glance behind him and she frowned. “Even if Alan eats the entire buffet.”

Virgil turned around to find Alan buzzing over the food laid out on the reception desk, his chair hovering higher up so he could see everything. The red of his awkwardly worn baldric glowed in the shafts of natural light filtering down from the windows far above them. Virgil subconsciously acknowledged the structural design work that managed to direct sunlight all the way down here in the centre of a major city.

His littlest brother tended to eat when nervous.

Gordon was pacing back and forth a little further away, his yellow even brighter than Alan’s red. His fish brother hadn’t stopped glaring the entire flight out.

John had the privilege of being excused from this exercise. The man, despite having slept, as briefly as possible, was still working. Virgil was worried.

As for Scott...

His big brother was standing tall, not far away, not willing to let Virgil out of his sight. At this moment, he was deep in conversation with a harried Jack.

The lawyer had seen better days. The man’s comb-over had come astray and he had bags under his eyes to rival those under Scott’s.

Virgil’s face itched.

Scott’s eyes darted in his direction as if they were psychically linked, his eyes catching Virgil’s hand as it reached to scratch his cheek.

Grandma’s grabbed his fingers again and Virgil sighed.

How did women wear makeup all day? It was so...itchy.

It was Jack’s recommendation. The remains of the bruise on Virgil’s cheek had to be gone. The press did not need a reminder of what had started all this.

Jack had the fun of being snarled at by Gordon for that comment.

The lawyer was unfazed, his expression tolerant as he took the aquanaut on.

A word from Virgil had halted his fish brother’s tirade of innocence. Jack wasn’t the one responsible.

But ultimately, here they were. Virgil decked out in his uniform and a little face putty to hide the green of a fading bruise.

So damned itchy.

Veronica Myers, your typical power-suited, perfectly polished PR representative hurried out from the elevator and narrowed in on Scott. The woman was good at what she did. It was what she did that baffled Virgil and his brothers. In the spotlight for a good chunk of their lives, they knew how important appearances were, but Veronica added a whole new dimension to the concept.

“They are ready for you, Mr Tracy.”

‘Mr Tracy’ was only one of them in this situation.

Cold blue eyes turned to Virgil. It had been decided that only Scott and the second eldest would take the stand.

Gordon was very loud and pointed about his opinion of the situation, but Scott was louder and in command.

The aquanaut was still steaming.

It appeared to be a permanent state of mind for his fish brother lately.

Virgil squeezed his grandmother’s hand and let go. He strode over to his brother, their lawyer and PR rep.

Veronica straightened his collar and Virgil held back a sigh.

“Do you remember the script?” Her voice was crisp, her eyes searching.

“Yeah, as best I can.” Veronica hadn’t liked the fact Virgil was accompanying Scott in this little venture. The engineer had much less experience speaking to the press than his bigger brother. Virgil was much more a behind the scenes type and usually kept his appearances attached to worthy causes when he got the chance.

There was a big difference between opening a new children’s hospital ward versus a press conference.

“Scott will do most of the talking.” He had the skill set. Virgil was far too honest for his own good.

Veronica’s eyes were almost violet in this lighting. Perfect lips pursed just a little in worry.

She was honestly the oddest mother hen type he had ever encountered. She cared about their business and their family was the business.

Her fingernails were an iridescent purple today, long and perfectly manicured.

A tug at his baldric and she caught his eyes. “Looking good, Virgil.” She smiled. “You’ve got this.”

Despite himself, Virgil snorted. “Thanks, V.”

Her smile widened before turning to Scott. “You ready?”

Scott’s lips thinned as his shoulders set. As determined as before any rescue. “Let’s do this.”

-o-o-o-

It wasn’t until he stepped out onto the stage that Virgil realised he was almost beside himself with nerves. So much preparation, so much thinking about his brothers, that he failed to acknowledge his own thoughts on the matter.

There was a sea of people.

Holocams hovered, their bright lights eye piercing. Cameras flashed. The moment he and his brother emerged, a mass of sound welled up from the crowd. Scott’s name, his name, accusations disguised as questions.

It was overwhelming.

Scott took it all in stride, back straight, expression challenging anyone who encountered it.

A hand reached back and touched Virgil’s arm and it was enough to snap him into responder mode, the wall of professionalism coming down to protect himself. He straightened his own posture. He was a member of International Rescue.

The flashes were as blinding as any electrical storm he had encountered.

Veronica took mic control as the two brothers took their places at the podium. Sitting down, but still above the general crowd, Virgil could see where the police had blocked off the street to contain the crowd.

At the centre of the gathering were all the professional journalists. Expensive equipment, well dressed, sharp and likely the most dangerous sharks in the sea. But on the edges of the cordoned off area the crowd became the everyday joe. Placards on one side screamed messages like ‘Tracy fraud’ and ‘They let my son die’.

The words stabbed at him, sharp and cold. This was his responsibility. This is what he had done.

His reaction must have been obvious because, combined with a sudden mad flashing in his direction, even more questions were screamed at him.

“Why did you do it?!” One above all others yelled across the plaza.

Virgil, always able to locate the source of a sound, found the woman off to the left. She had tears streaming down her face. She held a placard with a young man’s photograph stuck to it. Underneath was written ‘One of Sixty-three’. “He was my only son!”

There was another flurry of camera noise and light as Virgil stood up. His eyes only for her.

Scott was saying something, pulling at his harness, but Virgil was stronger.

The woman stared at him, tears running down her face.

Words fell from his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

The crowd erupted.

“Virgil, sit down.” It was hissed at him as the roar overtook everything.

Everyone was shouting.

Veronica was calling for order, but no one was listening.

That one woman kept staring at him. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her tears.

“Do you admit responsibility for the sixty-three deaths in New York?”

“That was an apology!”

“Why did you let it happen?”

It was an avalanche threatening to sweep him away.

Then someone got a hold of a megaphone. “You people are disgusting!”

It was like an extra knife, twisting in his gut. Virgil looked down at the wooden table in front of him. After images danced in his eyesight.

But the megaphone continued. “How can you treat these men this way? How many of you have had loved ones saved by International Rescue? I have! We owe these men everything, you ungrateful slimes!”

Virgil’s head shot up. What?

On the other side of the crowd, almost opposite the woman who had accused him, were a group of people all dressed in green. Beside them were other groups of colours – yellow, blue, gold and red. Above this rainbow were more placards, but their message was considerably different.

‘Virgil Tracy saved my boy’.

‘I’ve been saved and so have you.’

‘Rescued by International Rescue.’

‘Leave IR alone.’

The one that screamed out in blue ‘Scott Tracy, will you marry me?’ held a different message altogether, but the spirit was there.

The woman holding the microphone was dark-haired and unfamiliar.

The hub bub had died down just a little and Virgil found the ability to breathe again.

The woman’s eyes caught his and the determination and the…trust in them was a physical thing that up and slapped him.

She didn’t let him go.

He was International Rescue.

He saved people.

Again, the crowd reacted to him. Much more must be showing on his face than he was aware, because a tension settled over the people below. Eyes darted between the woman in green and Virgil’s stare. New questions popped up, but they were quieter and finally, Veronica was able to take control of the proceedings.

“Thank you for your consideration.” Her pursed lips added sarcasm and not a little admonishment to her words. “Scott and Virgil Tracy are here to answer a few questions, but before we start, Mr Tracy has a statement.”

She stepped back from the lectern and Scott stood up, his fingers brushing gently over Virgil’s shoulder.

Scott exuded command. His brother was putting every bit of himself into projecting confidence and power.

And he was succeeding.

“Several accusations have been made against International Rescue in recent days.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Regarding Hurricane Lucy…myself and my brothers are grieved at the loss of life caused by the storm, and the damage to the environment incurred by the oil spill.” Another pause, eyes raking the crowd. “Despite repeated attempts to launch, we were restrained by the Global Defence Force from saving those in danger.

“We wanted to, but we were forced to sit and watch when we could have prevented so much.

“And for that reason, we share your grief.”

Blue eyes raked the silent crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York…” A whimper to their left and Virgil’s eyes were once again forced to land on the woman who had lost her son.

The tears were gone and he only found hatred in her eyes.

He drew in a breath.

Cameras flashed yet again.

“Virgil! We trust you!” It was loud. It was sudden. But it whipped his eyes away from accusation to the other side of the crowd once again where that colourful group of people projected support.

His heart twisted.

He felt Scott’s eyes on him, before his brother retook control of the crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York. We are investigating the cause of the accident, but I can assure you that it was _not_ pilot error.”

He held the crowd with his eyes and Virgil found even more admiration for his brother. Scott knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it well.

His brother took a step back. “Thank you for coming.”

Several reporters twitched at that, arms shooting up with a sudden fear they were about to lose their opportunity to speak with the Tracys.

Intelligent and powerful, Scott looked down on them and held them with his eyes just that moment longer before breaking the spell and returning to his seat beside Virgil.

Virgil stared at him.

Okay, wow.

His brother turned to look at him and blue sparkled as one corner of his lips curled up just a little.

Oh, confident and suave Scooter who was fully aware of his skill. It distracted Virgil from dark thoughts and he suddenly realised that he was as subject to his brother’s spell as the rest of the crowd.

Smart ass.

Veronica took the stand again. “We have time for a few _relevant_ questions.”

Hands that had dropped under that blue-eyed bewitchment shot up again. Veronica turned to Scott, non-verbally handing him the floor.

And Virgil realised that Scott had returned to his seat for only one reason.

To support his younger brother through this.

Virgil let his shoulders drop.

Control of the crowd returned to Scott.

The commander eyed the cluster of journalists, raised a hand and pointed to one on the right. “Ned?”

Virgil blinked. It was indeed Ned Cook. Scott and the reporter had a long term, ongoing antagonism. Cook had chased International Rescue across the globe, attending as many rescues as he could. Having once encountered a frustrated Scott in person, and then been saved by Virgil during a building collapse not long after, he was very pro-IR on every front.

Scott still had words with him time to time. The man always had to push the boundaries and Virgil knew his brother found him irritating.

Virgil just worried the man was going to get himself killed.

But he was a fair reporter and would relay the facts.

Dark hair and eyes bounced between the two Tracys. “So, what you are saying is that International Rescue was not responsible for either incident?”

Scott tilted his head. “Mr Cook, what I am saying is that we are not responsible for being unable to assist during Hurricane Lucy. That blame lies entirely with GDF Command. We have recordings of their direction during the crisis and the extent we tried to help. We were vetoed on all fronts.”

“Why didn’t you fly anyway?”

“And give the GDF an excuse to ground us permanently? Risk all the future lives we could save?” Scott sighed. “We can only help those who want to be helped.”

That set the crowd rumbling. There were shouts of ‘we wanted help’ and ‘please help us’.

Virgil found his eyes drawn again to the left.

The woman was still staring at him with accusation in every line.

He shied away.

“What about the New York disaster?” Cook wasn’t letting them off the hook.

Scott remained calm. “As I said, we are still investigating.”

Virgil was aware of all the eyes on him.

Scott pointed at another reporter.

The man straightened. “Eddie Kerr, sir. I’d like to address Mr Virgil Tracy.”

Scott glanced at him sideways, but Virgil nodded.

All the attention turned to him.

“Virgil, what were your thoughts when that slab of concrete dropped on those sixty-three people?”

Virgil’s throat tightened and he had to clear his throat, but he found his voice. “Sixty-four, my youngest brother was also under that concrete when it fell.”

“But he survived. The other sixty-three did not.”

“I tried, Mr Kerr. God, I tried. It shouldn’t have happened.” A hand landed on his arm and cameras flashed at him again.

God, he _was_ the vulnerability.

“You did your best, Virgil” The megaphone again. “We know you-” She was cut off.

His eyes found the green woman wrestling with a police officer. He appeared to be attempting to take away the megaphone.

Virgil stood up. “No, leave her alone!”

“Virgil!” Scott hissed at him again.

He turned to his brother. “She has the right to speak, Scott. Just as much as anyone else here.” Turning back to the crowd. “Leave her be!”

“You don’t control the police, Mr Tracy.” It was sneered from somewhere down at the front.

Scott rose beside him, tension in every line as a woman in a suit stepped out of the crowd. She had an intensity in her step that spoke of confidence and a right to be where she was.

On the other side of the plaza, the green woman was joined by one dressed in red and a man in blue. More police ran to the scene as the woman struggled. The crowd murmured uneasily.

“Mr Tracy!” The woman in the suit was being held back by IR Security. Gerald, in fact, Scott’s personal attendant. “I’m from the Office of the Commissioner of Justice.” Her tones were sharp and her identification was literally shoved in Gerald’s face. The officer frowned as he focussed on the document. Eyes darted up to Scott and confirmed her identity.

Cameras were flashing again, almost blinding Virgil as his brother nodded. Gerald let the woman through, hovering behind her, hand on his stunner.

She sauntered up to the podium, eyes cold and accusing. She slapped a clear flimsy down in front of Virgil as Scott shifted closer, all towering protectiveness.

The woman ignored him. Attention solely on Virgil, “You’re summoned, Mr Virgil Tracy, to answer for your actions.” Her finger tapped the electronic slip and the flimsy flashed acceptance.

Virgil stared at her, but she ignored him, and turned to Scott. “You don’t control everything, commander. You will answer for your actions.”

She spun on her heel and strode off into the crowd.

Virgil found his mouth open and shut it.

The light and noise of the crowd rose up and consumed him.

-o-o-o-


	16. Chapter 16

“I’m not being arrested, Gordon.” Virgil ran his hand through his hair and realised it was due a wash. “It’s only an inquiry.”

His aquanaut brother glared at him. “Virg, it’s dangerous. They obviously think you are guilty. What if they decide they want to hold you?”

“It’s the law Gordon. You want me to break the law? Because as soon as I do, then they win.”

His little brother let off a frustrated sound. Virgil had no doubt that if they weren’t flying Tracy Two, Gordon would be pacing. As it was, Grandma had words with him pre-take off just to get the aquanaut to sit in the co-pilot’s seat.

Virgil could appreciate Gordon’s point and if he was completely honest, he was scared. This could be life altering.

Permanently life altering.

But he had to find out what happened and the law had the right to summon him to question his actions.

He had to trust that law. Wainwright and company obviously had an agenda. But even they had to abide by the law, didn’t they?

“I don’t trust them. They want to take us down and they are trying to use you to do it.”

Virgil’s heart clenched. It all came back to him being the weak one, the vulnerability. His hands tightened on the yoke.

Gordon noticed and growled. “God, Virg, you’re not a weakness. For fuck’s sake, you’re the strongest of us all. Don’t fall for their crap. They want you doubting yourself.”

Well, in that case, it was working perfectly. Today had proven that beyond measure.

“Scott will fix this. Pen and Kayo will get the facts. Hell, Virg, you had groupies at the press conference. Did you see how many of them were dressed in green?”

Virgil blinked, his mind supplying his last sight of their supporters as several of them were led away by police. A riot had been averted, barely. Even on the security cam from inside Tracy Tower he could see the fire in that woman’s eyes.

And he didn’t even know her name.

“Jack has a lawyer on it. He’ll get them off.”

Virgil glanced at his brother and wondered when the fish had developed telepathy. Carnelian eyes caught his and his brother touched his arm. “We’ll work this out, Virg.”

Was it a weakness to rely on hope? Scott had stayed behind in Auckland to oversee the aftermath of the conference. They had had their chance to state their side of the story and it did appear that they at least had a few people asking questions.

Scott and Jack had been discussing the possibility of an interview with Ned Cook to follow up the conference...minus Virgil.

As with each time he thought of his conduct on the podium, Virgil groaned internally. All he had needed to do was stick to the script, but no, he’d opened his goddamned mouth and stuck his foot in it.

But the woman who had lost her son in New York, her eyes, her tears, her accusations...god, he had just wanted to help.

Hell, it was what he did.

Of course, the summons had been timed perfectly by the opposition. In front of the press and in a way that added to his apparent guilt.

Grandma had banned him from watching the newscasts.

Tracy Island appeared on the horizon and he had never been happier to see their refuge.

The thought that he might be taken away from the Island suddenly curdled in his belly.

He didn’t acknowledge Gordon, instead starting the approach sequence, checking windspeed and direction in preparation for landing.

The aquanaut had been bundled into Tracy Two with Virgil, Scott wanting nothing more than to get his vulnerable brother out of reach, home and safe. But certainly not by himself. No, military-trained Gordon had been directed to keep an eye on his brother. No doubt, to keep him secure while Scott cleaned up the mess.

They may say he wasn’t a weakness, but they were certainly acting like he was.

As he banked towards landing, Virgil both appreciated his amazing family and wished he wasn’t letting them down.

-o-o-o-

The days that followed the press conference were frustrating. With IR down for the count, four out of five operatives were out of work. This was a situation that rarely occurred and never for this length of time.

Scott returned to the Island with mixed emotions. The eldest had seen to the assistance of their supporters, posted bail where needed and sic’d their lawyers on the charges, paltry that they were.

John had identified the leader as none other than Susie Tedford, Ned’s younger sister. Scott managed to have a very revealing conversation with her, both about her brother and the value she saw in International Rescue. Hers wasn’t a fan club. They were a working emulation. Her small group went out of its way to assist people who had been caught in disasters.

The thing that baffled Virgil as well as his brothers was that the group had never applied for Tracy grant money to do what they did. They’d flown beneath Thunderbird Five radar, giving help, but refusing to ask for it. A hunt by one annoyed astronaut found a trail of good deeds scattered across the planet. The group had geographical divisions, for goodness sake. Each working quietly to help everyone they could.

Scott hunted down the director responsible for grant funding and had some serious words.

Money was thrown where it would be well used.

The cherry on top of the ice cream was the fact Susie was a fully qualified engineer. His brother’s frown at Virgil’s reaction when he mentioned her user name on the nets was justified.

Virgil had been a fan of ‘SturdySue’ for some years.

If there was one thing that he hoped he could get out of this whole mess was to meet the woman who saved lives by designing structures that withstood disasters. If Virgil babbled a bunch of engineeringese at his eldest brother when he asked why, so be it. Scott needed to be flummoxed occasionally.

But this bright spark was only one light amongst so many dark days. The rest of the week passed with no word from Penny or Kayo and Virgil began to despair. The Inquiry was set for the end of the following week. he was hoping to have some proof to back up his assurances that did not rely on his word or recordings. Independent verification was mandatory to get himself out of this mess.

To get his brothers out of this mess.

John continued to refuse to come down. Virgil went up there again, but only managed to get into a shouting match with the man. John rarely yelled, but he was obviously at his wits end. It only caused Virgil to worry more.

And Scott refused to order him down.

Because Scott was exactly the same. His eldest brother was driven, obsessive almost. He lived off every bit of information John could dig up. He had that same passion in his eyes that he had when on a rescue. He was focussed on saving someone.

On saving Virgil.

The launch of ‘World Rescue’ neared and Virgil watched as the world was taught to believe in the initiative and deride the ‘former’ International Rescue.

Gordon was particularly vocal on the matter, reading every report he could get his hand on, determined to find fault, suspicious of everything. His opinion of Wainwright defied the depth of Challenger Deep and he foretold dire results and a repeat of the Sentinel disaster.

Gordon literally hated her guts.

Virgil was of two minds himself. While their treatment of International Rescue was abominable, the idea of the GDF picking up some Rescue slack, wasn’t a bad one. After all, International Rescue would not have existed if there wasn’t a dearth of need in the first place.

As to the quality of the new organisation, well, they weren’t Thunderbirds and far from Tracys.

While there was little information on the equipment that would be used, the choice of a lead Colonel left much to be desired. Colonel Barrett had definitely been involved in the Sentinel fiasco - Gordon had raved for a full half an hour about that when he found out.

But Virgil was one to watch and see and step in when needed. He planned ahead when possible, kept his cool and anticipated when he could.

But no-one could have anticipated the rescue alarm going off on the morning of the launch.

No-one.

-o-o-o-


	17. Chapter 17

“It’s a trap.”

Gordon was glaring at John’s hologram hanging in the middle of the comms room. All four brothers were arrayed around the holographic diagram of a giant aircraft launch platform. The massive ship hovered in mid-air somewhere over the Atlantic offering a take-off and landing option along with facilities for an audience.

Unfortunately, at some point the landing option had become a crash option and the whole platform was canted at a horrible angle that needed no engineering skills to know was bad.

Very, very bad.

John’s tone was more on edge than usual, but this was a rescue situation, so he was professional. “Gordon, there are a thousand people on that platform, including the entirety of the World Security Council.”

Gordon froze. “Penelope’s father is on that thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Scott spoke up as Gordon’s expression froze in shock. “What about escape pods.”

“Not functional.”

Virgil frowned. “What do you mean ‘not functional’?”

“It appears they have been disabled.”

Virgil stared at his space brother. “Why?”

John sighed. “The platform was set up for a series of rescue simulations for the launch of the new ‘World Rescue’ initiative. My guess is that they didn’t want anyone panicking and jumping ship mid-display.”

It was Virgil’s turn to be gobsmacked. How could people be so stupid. “Can we re-enable them?”

John’s fingers darted over unseen controls. “Eos is working on it, but the crash caused electrical havoc and several systems have been irreparably damaged.”

“I agree with Gordon. It has to be a trap.” Alan sat in his hover chair glaring at everything.

Scott sighed. “John, has our help been requested?”

“If you count individuals, I have received five hundred and forty-two calls for International Rescue from persons aboard the stricken craft in the last five minutes.

“Anything from official channels?”

“Not a blip.”

It was strange. Had this been a rescue prior to the last week, they would already be airborne. As it was, they were all staring at Scott as he stood there frowning and assessing the risk.

It only took a moment before Scott’s head came up. “Request permission.”

“FAB.” John didn’t even blink.

The next few moments were some of the longest ever.

But John’s expression told them all they needed to know before he opened his mouth. “Permission denied.”

“What?!” Gordon glared up at his brother even more. “There are a thousand people in danger!”

“Their answer was ‘World Rescue has the situation under control. Your assistance is not required’.”

Virgil stared at the image of the launch platform. One of its massive hoverjets had been disabled when the aircraft had collided with the landing strip. The whole platform was teetering at an angle that was seriously degrading the effectiveness of the remaining three hoverjets. A few more degrees and the entire ship would fall out of the sky. Physics tolerated only so much abuse.

Virgil’s mind supplied the strategy he would take to stabilise the craft, calculations of mass and thrust, how many airjacks he would need to support all that weight. It would be fairly simple to correct that tilt long enough and strong enough for evac craft to land and get everyone off.

But instead of launching and executing that plan, he was standing here watching a GDF flyer attempting to make a landing beside the crashed plane on the damaged airstrip.

“No!” It was out of his mouth without thinking, his hand held up as if he could grab the hologram and stop the idiots from doing the ultimately stupid.

But he couldn’t. Instead he got to watch as the platform tilted even further, the three remaining hoverjets desperately trying to compensate causing a structural twist in the landing strip’s frame it was not designed to take.

Virgil’s engineering brain supplied the very moment it would snap and it did.

He sucked in a breath as the damaged strip broke and folded almost ninety degrees with the force of gravity, the platform’s whole frame shuddering as it collided with the superstructure.

The GDF flyer flipped and a wing caught in the warped framework. Fortunately. It was the only thing preventing the craft from plummeting to the ground.

The crashed plane shifted, but appeared fused to the platform and didn’t fall either.

A single flailing figure did.

“What the hell were they thinking?” It was a breath exhaled by Scott, his blue eyes staring at the hologram in horror.

“I say we launch.” Virgil made the decision without hesitation.

Those blue eyes latched onto him. “Virgil? It has all the signs of a set up.”

“There’s a thousand people in danger.” He flung a hand at the hologram. “They need our help.”

“We’d be breaking a direct order.”

“It was a stupid ass order.” Gordon glared at Scott.

The commander looked up at his space brother. “Any change?”

“None official, however I have received another three hundred and thirty-two calls for help, and counting. This appears genuine.”

“Why are we waiting?” Virgil was on edge. “We need to get out there.”

“And I need to make sure I’m making the right decision for all of us.”

“People are in danger. There is no question.”

“Virgil...” But he could see his brother’s dilemma. It was a thousand people versus his family. Because yes, by defying the GDF, this could end everything they had worked for. IR could be shut down. Hell, they could all go to prison.

“If we don’t respond, we will be betraying ourselves.” Virgil eyed the platform as it teetered. “We need to get out there. They need us. We can’t stand by and let those people die.”

Not again.

A fire flickered in his brother’s eyes.

“Scott-“

The commander held up his hand. “Are we all in agreement? Are you aware of the risks?”

Five nods.

Blue eyes lit up with flame.

“Okay then...Thunderbirds are go.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s feet hit the deck plates of Two with a reassuring thud. He shoved the overhead hatch closed and revelled in the use of muscles deprived of real work over the last few days.

Slipping into his pilot’s seat gave him such a rush of ‘rightness’ he almost sighed. Behind him, Gordon surfaced through the bottom hatch, no doubt fiddling with his uniform like he always did.

“Alan’s angry.”

Virgil ran through pre-flight with ease, his mental check list ticking of items automatically as his bird began her spin and the great door opened to let the sunlight in.

God, this just felt right! This is where he was supposed to be.

He engaged her warm up sequence as Gordon slipped into his co-pilot’s seat and Virgil found himself obliged to answer. “I don’t blame him. This is an important rescue.” Two’s engines hummed up to readiness and he began her taxi out.

“Do you think it is a trap?”

His bones sung with her thrum. A flick of his wrist and the palm trees on the runway gave way.

The sun was bright this morning.

“I don’t know, Gordon. All I know is that people are in danger. That is where we step in.”

“But what if we step into shit?”

Two slid onto her launch platform and he engaged the hydraulics that lifted her nose towards the sky. He sighed. “Then we go into hell knowing we are doing it for the right reasons.”

Gordon turned away and looked up through the front windows into the blue.

Virgil engaged Two’s rear thrusters and his ‘bird roared into the sky.

-o-o-o-


	18. Chapter 18

As always, Thunderbird One arrived first on the scene. Virgil listened in as his brother defended their right to attend the emergency. John had looped in all their comms, including the Island so they all knew exactly what was happening.

Scott was polite, but firm.

“Colonel, we have the equipment and there are a thousand lives at stake. Can we at least put aside the political situation and save these people.” Barrett, the brand new commander of World Rescue was apparently the one in charge.

“Tracy, we have the situation in hand. You are barred from interfering.”

“Colonel, Thunderbird Two is inbound. She has the equipment to support the platform. At least let her assist!”

“We don’t need your assistance. Go home to your fancy little island.”

There was silence from Scott as Two approached and shifted to a hover beside her sister. Gordon was muttering under his breath. They were fortunate comms were set to only one way.

Virgil eyed the platform, raking it with Two’s sensors.

A flick of a switch. “Thunderbird One, be advised that the structural support of the runway is failing.” Several red exclamation icons flashed up on Virgil’s display. “It’s not going to last much longer.”

“Acknowledged, Thunderbird Two.” The frustration in his brother’s voice bent airwaves.

Another GDF flyer swooped in from the other side the platform. Virgil’s eyes bugged out as he realised that this flyer, too, was going to attempt to land on the remains of the runway. Hadn’t they learnt from the first one??

He knew how much one of those craft weighed. He knew how fragile the structure was. His hand slammed down on comms. “GDF Flight Zero-Seven-Tango, abort landing! ABORT!”

Wheels touched down.

“NO!”

The runway crumpled. The flyer tipped as the structure failed, its engines in the wrong position for an effective lift.

Virgil didn’t hesitate. He fired Two’s rear thrusters and swooped in over the falling plane. Grapples were fired to the sound of yelling over comms and Two’s VTOL howled as she took the weight of the flyer.

-o-o-o-

“I’m not going to be able to hold her long. Zero-Seven-Tango, right your VTOL and engage lift.”

The pilot didn’t respond, but the flyer’s thrusters rotated into position and fired.

Virgil edged Two out of the huge craft’s new flight path as he disengaged grapple support. The GDF craft hovered up between the platform and Thunderbird Two.

Not a word was said.

It paused as if to stare at the Thunderbird before rising above it and taking up a position out of the immediate danger zone.

It sat there watching.

Virgil frowned at his instruments, but he didn’t have time to worry about whatever the hell they were doing. The collapse of the last portion of the runway had destabilised the platform further. Its angle was skewed even more towards the ‘fall out of the sky’ ultimatum it was threatening.

Scott was yelling at someone.

Virgil tuned out the argument about their rights to save people and set about saving those people instead.

“Deploying airjacks.”

Two’s belly hatch opened and six of the hover devices flew out. Essentially emergency hoverjets, the airjacks were designed to attach to aircraft, or in this case, air platform and replace failing VTOL or other jets to keep a vehicle in the sky long enough for an evac.

If there was ever a situation in need of them, this was it.

Virgil directed each jack to a structurally safe point to lift. Unfortunately, they were only a temporary solution and there was a time limit, but hopefully it would be enough.

The whole platform groaned as the jacks took the overbalanced weight and held the craft in place. It was still listing, but it wasn’t going to tilt any further for some time.

“Colonel Barrett, quite frankly I don’t care for your opinion. Twice now your actions have endangered lives further. International Rescue has the tools and the experience to save these people. For the love of god, get over yourself.”

Barrett’s response was colourful, but at least it was distracted enough for Thunderbird Two to assist without interference.

Virgil eyed his display. “Thunderbird Five, how goes the escape pod situation?”

“Promising. Eos is rewriting code to work around damaged networks. We will need someone on site to connect crucial systems.”

“FAB. We need to save the pilots of the two crashed planes first. Gordon and I will handle that. Let us know when you need that extra helping hand.” A pause. “And call the GDF and ask them to send in a few of their people carriers, just in case.” Why they weren’t already here was a mystery in itself.

“FAB.”

Scott wasn’t swearing, but his frustration was melting Virgil’s comms.

Time was a major factor here.

“Gordon, you’ve got the crippled flyer. I’ll grab the pilot from the first plane.”

His brother slipped out of his seat as Virgil shifted Two into position above the two disabled craft.

Virgil donned his exosuit. There was no doubt he was going to need it. The first plane was a crumpled mess.

Gordon lowered himself through Two’s front hatch while Virgil exited the same way as the jacks had earlier. Both had folded basket stretchers dangling beside them.

Virgil forced himself to focus despite the vitriol flying across comms. Barrett had apparently been supplanted by Wainwright herself. The woman’s screech of a voice grated on his nerves.

If only the world could hear the crap they were having to put up with just to do the right thing.

He was almost to the wreck when he caught a flicker out of the corner of his eye. He frowned as a holocam zipped into a hover beside him.

What the hell?

And then he realised that of the thousand people they were attempting to save, no doubt there would be a large party of press.

Here to document the launch of ‘World Rescue’.

Now looking for the next best thing - any and all dirt on International Rescue.

Virgil glared at the camera a moment before turning back to doing what he was here to do.

He ignored the annoyance and didn’t even really notice when it was joined by friends.

The plane that had caused this mess had slammed into the runway at an angle. It was one hell of a screwed-up landing and Virgil had never seen the like. The cockpit had been almost completely sheared off, its safety capsule wrapping around the safety rail. It was this simple crumpling of metal that had saved the pilot when the plane’s fuel source had exploded, taking out the platform’s hoverjet below.

It was also the reason why the capsule hadn’t fallen with all the extra damage the GDF had managed to do. It was hooked to the railing and hanging there like a mangled pendulum.

Virgil interfaced with Two’s systems and lowered a magnetic grapple to secure the craft before boarding.

“Virg, I’ve got the two pilots from the flyer. One is uninjured, but the other has a bleeder. Securing in the medbay.”

“FAB, Gordon.” Virgil pried open the remains of the safety capsule with the combination of a claw and his laser. Unconscious and bloodied, the pilot was still strapped into her seat. A quick scan revealed a broken arm, head injury and multiple contusions. Remarkably little damage considering the mess made of her plane.

A holocam buzzed into his peripheral vision again. What?

A frustrated claw swiped the camera out of the air. A kick jammed it in a corner, lens to the fuselage.

Virgil busied himself manoeuvring the pilot into a basket stretcher.

“Pilot secured. Returning to Thunderbird Two.”

He emerged from the damaged capsule into a flock of holocams.

What the hell?!

“Thunderbird Five, can we kill the publicity please.”

“FAB.”

The flock suddenly backed off to a more reasonable distance, but they didn’t go away. As Virgil drew himself and his rescuee up into the belly of Two, the swarm followed at a respectable distance.

“John, why are they still following me?”

“The world wants the truth, Virgil. Let’s give it to them.”

“So they can warp it again?”

“We’ll see.”

At that tone, Virgil immediately grew suspicious. “What are you planning, Johnny?”

His brother’s voice was all innocence. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.” And the predictable grump. “And don’t call me Johnny.”

Virgil grunted across comms as he was swallowed by his ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

Scott gave up his verbal battle at some point, choosing to ignore Wainwright and her blathering. No doubt there would be hell to pay later, but there were more important things to attend to.

Thunderbird One joined her sister hovering above the platform.

Virgil and Gordon secured their rescuees in Two’s medbay, Virgil helping Gordon cap the bleeder and stabilise the GDF captain he’d saved.

Returning to the cockpit revealed little had changed. The airjacks were still supporting the platform. It was secure for the moment.

“Where are those people carriers?” The sky was empty of the needed rescue relief.

It was Scott who answered. “Wainwright killed the order.”

“What?! You’re kidding me?! There’s a thousand people down there. We don’t have capacity to evac that many!”

“I know that, Virgil.”

Of course, his brother did.

“Thunderbird Five, any word on those escape capsules?”

“Eos reports she is almost done, but we will need one of you on the platform to reconfigure the safety overrides and do some rewiring.”

Virgil didn’t hesitate. “FAB. Send me details.”

Virgil’s wrist beeped almost immediately and a touch of his fingertips brought up the location of the connectors he would have to jimmy.

“Thunderbird Two, we have a problem.” Scott’s voice could only be described as exasperated.

Virgil stared at his sensor read outs. People were running out onto the remains of the landing strip, waving their arms and shouting up at the hovering Thunderbirds.

“Shit. The structure isn’t safe. We need those people back in their capsules.

Scott didn’t quite sigh. “I’m on it. Gordon, you’re with me.”

“FAB.” His aquanaut brother bounced out of his seat and slammed his helmet back on.

Virgil slipped Two into position and his brother rappelled the distance down to the platform. “Watch your step down there, Gordon.”

“I’ve got it, Virg. Stop sprouting grey hairs.”

Virgil grunted a reply before moving Two into position above the massive stadium at the end of the landing strip. The platform was one of a handful. Virgil had the privilege of watching an airshow from one of these a couple of years ago. While Scott oggled the planes and rattled off specs, Virgil had been more interested in the structure itself and its simple yet complex design.

Each member of the audience was assigned to a pod. These pods were stacked up on each other not unlike cabins in a cruise liner. The difference was that the pods could, in an emergency, separate from each other, acting as escape capsules. Each pod had its own hoverjets and the stadium would simply disassemble.

In this case, that would require the people to actually be in their pods in the first place. As Virgil lowered himself down to the control panel at the top of the structure, the crowd below on the tarmac increased as Scott and Gordon strode to meet with it.

“Thunderbird Five, give me loudspeaker on comms.” Scott’s voice was firm.

“FAB.”

Out of the corner of his eye as Virgil unlatched the control hatch, he could see Scott holding up his hands as a swarm of holocams hovered above him.

“This is International Rescue. Please stay calm and return to your designated pods. This area is unsafe.”

“I’m with the World Security Council.” Virgil blinked at the strange voice. John had linked in his brothers’ receivers? “That is Thunderbird Two, is it not? Why haven’t we been taken aboard.”

“Sir, we do not have capacity to rescue everyone using the Thunderbirds. We are in process of engaging the platform’s emergency protocols. Please return to your pod so you can be evacuated safely.”

Virgil pulled up the schematic John had sent him and located the circuitry that had to be rewired.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m with the World Security Council.”

Virgil could almost hear his brother’s mental sigh. There was always one.

“Sir, please return to your pod.”

“I demand you let us board.”

“Jeremiah, will you please shut your mouth?”

Blink. That sounded like...

“Hugh Creighton-Ward. My apologies, Commander. Some members of the Council have become anxious.” That anxiety spluttered loudly in the background.

“Understandable. However, for everyone’s safety we need you all to return to your capsules. We will be evacuating you soon.”

Penelope’s father raised his voice to the point Virgil could almost hear it without the comms. “Everyone, can I have your attention please. International Rescue will be evacuating us as soon as possible. Please return to your pods and await instructions.”

The uproar at that was able to be heard without comms. A glance down at the tarmac and Virgil saw most of the crowd moving back towards the pods, but there was a core bunch still hovering around Gordon and Scott. Several claiming their right to be evacuated via Thunderbird immediately.

“If you do not return to your pods, you may miss an opportunity to be evacuated, sir!” Scott’s ‘sir’ was firm and aggravated.

The protest continued, Hugh’s strident voice arguing in favour of obeying IR’s requests. Jeremiah didn’t like that very much and continued to argue. Virgil swore under his breath as he jimmied the last of the wires. Eos acknowledged over comms when the connections slid into place. She tested the circuits and Virgil switched over full control to Thunderbird Five.

“How can we trust you after New York?” It was a woman’s voice and Virgil froze.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.” Scott’s tone was professional but bore a touch of sadness that clenched Virgil’s heart.

But further thought was suddenly distracted. “Sir, you can’t go over there! It’s not safe!” Gordon’s voice was sharp over the general grumble.

Virgil stood up and far below he saw the aquanaut chasing a man running towards the broken edge of the runway. What the hell was he doing?

“I need a Thunderbird!”

Alarmed, Virgil grabbed his connection with Two and started the retrieval process, the cable pulling against his harness and drawing him up towards her forward hatch.

Gordon yelled. “No, sir! Don’t!”

The man suddenly disappeared, the fragile section of tarmac crumpling beneath his feet and throwing him into a free fall towards the vast ocean so far below.

And with zero hesitation, Gordon jumped after him.

-o-o-o-


	19. Chapter 19

“Gordon!” Scott’s yell was echoed by John

Virgil didn’t think, he just moved.

Two was banking before he was even fully in his pilot’s seat, her massive thrusters firing to accelerate her down and around the listing platform.

“For Christ’s sake, hold still, you idiot.”

It was said under his breath, but Gordon’s voice carried over comms like a wave of reassurance. As Two darted under the platform, Virgil was both relieved and horrified to find the rescuee dangling from a hastily deployed grapple line.

Gordon was clinging to mangled superstructure not far below the hole he had leapt through. “Uh, hey, Virg. Need a little hand.”

Further up, Scott was peering through the hole in the tarmac.

An exhalation. “FAB, Gordon.”

Mental calculations and Virgil managed to squeeze Two up and under the victim. The collapsed runway was far too close for comfort, but he managed it with an inch or so to spare.

Rising out of Two’s top hatch, he was greeted with a wriggling wreck of a man. “About time.”

Virgil bit back his response. “Please hold still, sir.”

“Finally, I can get off this boat.”

Virgil felt no guilt at his urge to want to slap him. Gordon’s grapple, as always, had been right on target, snagging the victim’s belt in its claw. The guy obviously had no idea how close he had come to dying…or the danger to Gordon.

If he cared at all.

The fact that there were at least three holocams buzzing around filming them was, oddly, a little reassuring. Perhaps Jack could press charges.

As Virgil took the man’s weight and released the grapple, the groan of pain from Gordon over comms only emphasized what the man had done.

Virgil bit his lip until it hurt.

Definitely pressing charges.

He held the man until his feet touched the hatch plates and made sure he could take his own weight before lowering them into the cockpit.

He fingered his comms. “Scott, are you able to reach Gordon? I can try, but its tight up there. Two will not be able to get close enough without further structural damage.” Not that he would let that stop him, but the platform was unstable and a thousand lives were still dependent on it.

“FAB, Thunderbird Two. I have him secured with a grapple line. Gordon, status?”

Their aquanaut brother grunted, but Virgil lost the rest of his answer as the rescuee started protesting that he was fine and no, he didn’t need to lie down and could he sit in the co-pilot’s seat?

Virgil’s abrupt ‘No!’ apparently wasn’t enough to shut him up.

Virgil did not have time for this.

Deploying the seat furthest from the dash, he strapped the man into it.

“Hey, I want to sit up front.”

“You will sit here.” And shut up.

“Do you know who I am?”

An idiot? “I don’t care.”

Virgil turned his back on him and did his best to ignore the man’s protests as he realised that, no, he couldn’t undo his seatbelt.

There was no way Virgil was going to have this moron free to wander around his ship.

“Thunderbird Four? Status?”

Instead of Gordon, Scott answered. “Pulling him up now, Thunderbird Two. Gordon is secure.”

Oh, thank god.

Virgil couldn’t help peering up out of the windows and checking for himself. Far above, Scott could be seen hauling Gordon up with his own grapple gun.

Virgil needed to be topside now.

Two responded to his touch as she always did, smoothly and immediately, the great ship banking away from the structure in a controlled fall. He fired her thrusters launching her up and around the massive platform just in time to see Gordon emerge from the hole in the tarmac.

“Medical report, Gordon.” He had to know.

Again, Scott cut in before Gordon could answer. “Possible sprained wrist, definitely some issue with his right arm. Some bleeding. For goodness sake, Gordon stand still!”

“I’m fine, Scott, we have more important things to do.”

“I’m aware of the situation, Gordon. I want you evacuated to Two.”

Hissed over comms. “Forget it, Scott, I’m not leaving you down here with this mob of idiots by yourself.”

“Gordon!”

Virgil sighed and switched Two into a secure hover. “Thunderbird Five, you have Two, monitor and secure, please.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

“Have Eos keep an eye on the two patients in the medbay and advise immediately of any change.”

“Monitoring already. Internal cockpit cams active. Eyes active.”

Virgil’s lips twitched as he stood up from his seat. John knew exactly what he was talking about. Leaving Idiot alone on his ‘bird was not ideal, but he couldn’t actually throw the man back into the danger zone.

Grabbing a medkit, Virgil strode back to the hatch and lowered himself down enough to catch a descent line and secure it to his harness.

“What? Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back shortly, sir. No need to worry, you are in safe hands.”

“Hands? Whose hands?”

Virgil didn’t answer before he leapt off the hatch and began his descent down to the platform.

Gordon and Scott were sharing a few stubborn words as Virgil strode across the tarmac. There were still people milling about. He caught sight of Penelope’s father desperately trying to talk several suited individuals into returning to the pods.

It was enough to frustrate even Virgil’s patience.

He was almost to his brothers when the first words were thrown his way.

“That’s the one who killed all those people in New York!” That same woman’s voice from earlier. Virgil forced himself not to look, focussing instead on his brothers. The crowd began muttering. His name was mentioned several times.

The moment he reached Gordon, Scott handed him over and returned to attempting to handle the crowd.

That didn’t want to be handled.

“Hey, Gords. What have you done to yourself?” A visual inspection revealed a limp arm being held by a tight hand indicating pain. Several tears in his uniform and a glare with enough energy to ignite the air around it.

Worst of all, Gordon was strangely quiet, eyeing the crowd.

Scott again urged everyone to return to the pods. As if to emphasize his request, the wind suddenly picked up and the whole platform shuddered.

John, ever the eagle eye, immediately tagged them on comms. “You might want to hurry up that evac, guys. The weather is stable for the moment, but the forecast for the evening is the arrival of a front. There will be turbulence ahead of the change.”

Virgil was aware of that and had factored it into his calculations when deploying the airjacks.

Didn’t make them impervious to the jostling. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.” He turned to Gordon. “I want you up on Two. Now.”

Gordon’s eyes were still on the crowd and their muttered complaints. Scott was deploying full commander mode and several had backed away, heading towards the stadium, but a core group were either begging to be taken aboard a Thunderbird, glaring at Virgil…or yelling accusations at him.

Gordon pushed past his brother and strode towards the crowd.

“Gordon!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Gordon’s comms were on loudspeaker and his voice hushed the crowd immediately.

Almost.

One angry man in a GDF uniform stepped forward. “I’m your superior, lieutenant, and I demand-“

“You demand? You have no right to demand anything!”

Virgil reached for his brother, but his hand was shaken off. Scott spun and narrowed in on the both of them, worry the foremost in his expression.

But Gordon ignored it.

“My brothers have done nothing but try to help you, to save you, THAT is what we do. But you assholes won’t listen!” Gordon took a step forward, the hand on his arm white knuckled.

“If you don’t return to your pods now, you are going to die! Is that simplistic enough for you? My brothers will, no doubt, try their best, risk their lives, trying to save yours, but they are not fucking miracle workers. You will DIE, if YOU DON’T MOVE YOUR ASSES!!”

That got several people moving.

But not all.

“Gordon!” Scott’s voice was more worried elder brother than commander.

That earned him a scathing look. “No, Scott, I’ve had it! Did you hear what they are saying about Virgil? They called him a murderer!” His anger turned back to the crowd. “You have no fucking idea who you are talking about. Virgil is the kindest of us, the gentlest, he can’t hurt a damned fly and you accuse him of purposefully killing all those people. He tried to save them.” His brother’s shoulders wilted. “He tried so hard.”

“They still died.” It came from that same world councillor who wanted his own private Thunderbird ride.

Gordon staggered up to the man and Virgil hurried to follow. The tarmac shook again. “Gordon, we need to get these people off the platform.”

His brother ignored him and instead pushed into the councillor’s personal space. “Yes, they did. But you don’t care, do you? You have your own fucking agenda. It’s not about lives, is it? It’s about money. It’s about power.” A rough indrawn breath as the man took a step back. “Well, newsflash, asshole, we don’t care! We have the power, we have the money, and we don’t care. My brothers only want to help. Every life is important, even your mediocre and pathetic one. Now, move your ass AND RETURN TO YOUR POD SO WE CAN SAVE YOUR FUCKING LIFE!!”

Gordon staggered with the force of his yell and Virgil was moving. He grabbed at his little brother just as the aquanaut’s body suddenly folded.

Virgil caught him before he could hit the tarmac.

What the hell?! “Gordon!”

Voice whisper weak. “Virg.”

He held his brother in his arms while fumbling for the med scanner. “Gords, what the hell are you doing?”

Beneath plexiglass reflecting the sky above, carnelian flickered up at him. Gordon blinked slowly. “They hurt you…” His eyes closed and didn’t open again.

-o-o-o-


	20. Chapter 20

“What the hell were you thinking?” It was a hissed whisper and something beneath his hands moved.

“Shhhhh! You’ll wake him up and then we’ll both be dead.” That was Alan.

Virgil frowned.

“You know I prefer celery.”

“Well, that’s all they had.”

Gordon grumbled, something about pumpkin. “Thanks, bro.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil drifted again, too comfortable to care.

‘ _They were both honourable men. The blond one, Gordon? He stepped in when this guy just got in my face. I was just sitting down for a drink between classes and that guy wandered over and started hitting on me. I just wanted a quiet moment.’ A cleared throat. ‘If Gordon hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done. But then they were all fighting and I got scared, you know? If I had known it would start everything it did, I would have come to you sooner. But I didn’t and then it was worldwide news and...I’m sorry...I was scared, okay?’_

Virgil frowned. He was warm and his brain foggy. He just wanted to sleep.

_‘The facts that have recently come to light regarding the world government’s conduct have had dire consequences for certain leaders and, in particular, the leadership of the GDF. One thousand and seventy-nine people were aboard the failing launch platform and no GDF assistance was sent. If it wasn’t for the persistence of International Rescue, it is highly likely that the craft would have gone down with all aboard.’ And then Gordon was yelling at the top of his lungs. ‘RETURN TO YOUR POD SO WE CAN SAVE YOUR FUCKING LIFE!!’_

That threw Virgil out of whatever slumber he was entangled in. “Gordon!”

He found himself on his belly in a bed. Foreign smells identified the sheets as belonging to a hospital. Hospital?

A hand landed on his shoulder. Soft words. “Hey, hey, Virgil. Shhh, you’ll wake him up.”

Scott? Huh? He rolled over, tangling in a blanket. He was fully dressed apart from his boots. What the-?

“You fell asleep in a chair.” His brother, dressed in a suit, waved a hand at the seat he was sitting in. “John and I moved you to a bed so you would be more comfortable.”

Virgil blinked vaguely, but he only had eyes for the occupant in the other bed. Gordon was sleeping peacefully despite the news hologram hovering above his legs. Various scenes from the launch platform flickered on and off, the voiceover loud enough to be heard, but not to intrude. He watched film of his own ‘bird darting about. Scott and Gordon tackling the crowd.

Words fell from his mouth. “What’s going on?”

Scott had a shit eating grin on his face. “John did some filming.”

“He did what?”

“Highjacked a few of those journalists’ holocams and gave them the footage of the century.”

Virgil blinked at shots of himself catching Gordon as he fell. Every angle was available. The cameras panning as he checked his brother’s vitals, called his ‘bird closer and lowered a basket stretcher.

He swallowed at how much the expression on his face gave away when Gordon didn’t respond.

Scott hovered, caught between commander and brother.

When Virgil secured Gordon and began to draw himself and his brother into Two, one of the remaining crowd yelled out yet another demand to be taken aboard the Thunderbird.

The camera zoomed in on Scott’s face. His voice was ice cold.

“Return to your pod. This platform will be evacuated in ten minutes whether you are secure or not. This is your last warning.” As Thunderbird Two peeled away to a safe distance, Thunderbird One swooped in to collect her pilot and International Rescue evacuated the last of their operatives from the failing craft.

Thunderbird One’s loud speakers warned that the pods would be evacuating in ten minutes, that everyone would be safe if they were in their pod.

He didn’t say that IR wouldn’t collect stragglers, but his tone was one of a man on his last nerve.

The crowd ran back towards the stadium.

Virgil’s memories of the incident were different. He had Gordon in the cockpit, scanners screaming at him about internal bleeding. The realisation that he would have to fly his brother to the nearest hospital or risk losing him.

The war in his head between the thousand odd people below and the one brother under his hands.

And John’s word.

“Go, Virgil.”

“John-“

“Go. I’ve got this.”

An order from Scott and he was in his pilot’s seat accelerating away from the danger zone, his ‘bird clawing at the sky to gain speed.

He ignored the squawks from the idiot still strapped into his seat at the back.

The fact he had to swoop around an airliner as he set course for London, didn’t register at the time.

Now he saw what had happened after he left.

“John sent out a call for help and they answered.” Scott’s eyes were shining with pride.

All sorts of civilian aircraft emerged from the surrounding cloud layer. Helicopters, freight carriers, airliners, emergency services, all from the nearest countries.

So, ten minutes later when the stadium disassembled, each of the pods peeling away under its own power, there were enough craft in the sky to provide support.

Thunderbird One corralled, grappled and made sure all were safe, darting back and forth across the herd like an authoritive sheep dog.

The holocams cut to the herd arriving at the nearest airport, flashing emergency lights decorating the airstrip as the pods were directed to land, one by one, Thunderbird One and several other appropriately equipped craft catching and lowering those that struggled.

“He caught all of it on film.” There was that pride again as the newscast cut to a presenter hailing the wonders of International Rescue.

Virgil blinked.

His memory consisted of that mad dash to London, Gordon’s vitals and seeing him disappear behind emergency room doors.

Delivering the pilots from the crashed planes to medical care.

Physically restraining himself from punching the lights out of the man Gordon had injured himself saving. Giving him to the police, explaining what the man had done and that International Rescue would like to press charges.

The frown on the constable’s face had been odd. Virgil had assumed it had to do with the recent press regarding IR.

Perhaps not.

In any case, the annoying whiner continued his whining as he was taken away and Virgil was happy to see the last of him.

At least until Jack lined him up on a courtroom stand and shredded his life.

Gordon had surgery to stitch up the bleeding in his belly. A massive contusion still marked where he had collided with the airstrip superstructure during his leap to save that asshole.

His arm was strapped up after his shoulder had been relocated to its correct position and he was decorated in plasters.

The last thing Virgil remembered was sitting beside his little brother, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up.

A blink. “Alan was here.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah. Still is. Grandma dragged him out so you and Gordon could get some rest.”

“And you managed to get to stay?”

His brother smirked, those eyes glittering again. “Been waiting for you to wake up. Got some news.”

Virgil frowned. “News?” He pushed himself upright, tired muscles complaining all the way. The last few weeks had taken a physical toll as well as a mental one. Letting his socked feet fall off the side of the bed, he sat up fully and stretched his shoulders and arms. “You’re a Cheshire cat, Scott. Spill before I find other means.”

That earned him an arched eyebrow. “Lady Penelope and Kayo came through. They found the proof we were not responsible for the incident in New York.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “What? How?”

A hand landed gently on his knee. “It wasn’t your fault, Virgil. Lady P and Kayo found the cause and the persons involved.”

Virgil grabbed his brother’s hand. “But how?!” It came out louder than he intended and Gordon stirred in his sleep.

Scott’s hand gripped his. “The extra weight was cloaked. Penelope forced the authorities to give her access and she found the devices. Kayo was able to follow the trail of manufacture and found the thugs responsible. Jack jumped on it and all charges against you have been dropped.”

He stared at his brother. “Charges had been laid?!”

“But they are dismissed. You don’t need to worry about it.” The frown on Scott’s face told Virgil that Scott regretted even mentioning that fact. He had obviously hidden it.

“Did we break the law?”

“No!”

Had he been evading the law without even realising it? “Scott.”

Scott’s frowned increased. “No, Virgil. We’re not going there. You are not responsible. The charges have been cleared. End of story.” His brother’s glare brought that line of thought to an abrupt end. Whether it was because of the commander or the big brother, Virgil’s reflex was to obey.

Damnit.

“Is Virg being an idiot again?” The words were slurred and quiet, but so Gordon, Virgil was off the bed and beside his brother without thought.

“Gords?”

Tired brown eyes focussed lazily on him. “Hey, Virgil.” A slight frown. “You’re loud.”

He was on the wrong side of the bed to grab Gordon’s uninjured hand, so he had to satisfy his need for contact by running a finger through the hair on his little brother’s forehead. Gordon blinked and comically attempted to look up at Virgil’s hand.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry. How are you feeling?”

Those eyelids closed slowly and reopened blearily. “Tired.” A frown. “Where’s Alan?”

Scott stood up behind Virgil and those brown eyes latched onto their eldest brother over Virgil’s shoulder. “With Grandma. You need rest, Gordon.”

Gordon’s lips curved upwards. “Lookin’ spiffy, Scooter.”

Scott snorted, looking down at his suit. “Just playing the part.”

Gordon’s eyes drifted closed again. “You look good.” He frowned and his lips twisted as he attempted to shift on the bed. “Ow.”

“Stay still.” Virgil’s palm cupped the side of his brother’s head.

His eyes opened and found Virgil again, but Gordon didn’t say anything. His head did lean into Virgil’s hand and eventually those eyes drifted closed again. His breath evened out in sleep.

Virgil stared at his fishy brother a little longer.

Scott’s hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder. Voice quiet. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

Illogically, Virgil found himself not wanting to leave Gordon, but he cursed himself at being ridiculous and removed his hand, letting his brother’s head loll gently onto the pillow.

Scott’s fingers gripped his shoulder and he led him from the room.

-o-o-o-

Scott snorted when Virgil froze just outside the hospital front doors.

He had left Thunderbird Two in the hospital parking lot.

How he had had the mind to change into civilian clothes yet forgotten that he had a traffic hazard parked outside was a question he could not answer.

“Hey, at least you haven’t got a parking ticket.”

IR security had obviously been deployed. His ‘bird had been roped off and she was high up on her struts, well out of reach.

“She’s had her uses. John has found sanctuary. I think he may have even slept in your bed.”

Virgil blinked as his eyes passed over the crowd that was literally camped behind the ropes in the parking lot. Someone caught sight of them and started screaming. Within seconds several hundred people had emerged from tents and were yelling ‘Tracy, Tracy, Tracy!’

“What the-?”

“Popular opinion is as fickle as always.”

“Who did we save? The Queen?”

“Not quite. Though there was a prime minister, thirteen world councillors, a soap star and at least two musicians.” Scott frowned. “Foster? Two of them.”

Virgil stared up his brother. “Not Ben and Nick Foster?”

“Yeah, maybe?”

“We saved Ben and Nick Foster? Did you get their autographs?”

“What? No? Should I?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Did his brother live under a rock? “Ben and Nick Foster, Scott!”

“Ooookaaay.” His brother held up a hand. “Calm down. They did say that they were willing to support us in any way. I’ll let Jack know you’re interested.”

Virgil spent the next several moments considering what the hell he would do if the opportunity to meet the Fosters came up. Could he handle it? Maybe. It would almost be like meeting Kip Harris. That led to a train of thought of what might happen if they ever encountered the fire specialist.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Oh, hospital, Thunderbird Two, screaming fans. He straightened himself, ignoring the flush that crept up to his cheeks. “I’m fine.”

Scott frowned at him a little but then led him across the lawn towards his ‘bird, their fans screaming the entire way. Their questions were so opposite to those of the last couple of weeks, it felt wrong.

“They really don’t hate us anymore?”

“You know it isn’t that easy, Virg. There are plenty who still hate us, or want our stuff, or the power. I don’t think that will ever go away. But popular opinion, the opinion that gauges what is acceptable? Yeah, it seems we have it again.”

“Because of John?”

Scott stopped and turned, catching Virgil’s eyes. “Partly, but I think mostly because the truth finally got to those who matter. The people with the real power.”

“Who?”

“The people.” His brother turned towards the screaming crowd for just a second and the calls for ‘Tracy’ switched calls for ‘Scott’. “The moms, the dads, the postman, the small business owner, the woman who drives the school bus…the people we used to be.”

“We’re still those kinds of people.”

Scott shook his head. “Perhaps inside, but not to the rest of the world.” A half smile. “We’re the Tracy brothers. We’re International Rescue. Billionaires who live on a secret island.” A sigh. “If all this has proven anything, it’s that.”

“It shouldn’t matter. We do the right thing.”

“It shouldn’t, but it does.” A shrug and his big brother turned towards Two and, with the return of his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, led him to his ‘bird.

The hatch lowered without instruction and they left the screaming to the green soundproofing of cahelium.

“Hey, Virgil.” John was sitting in Gordon’s co-pilot seat, his tablet in his lap and a number of optical cables hooked into the dash.

“What are you doing to my Thunderbird?”

“Not much. Needed her antenna mostly and a little extra processing power.” A twist of his lips. “Eos, say hello.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Eos?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Where exactly are you?”

“That is an existential question. I am in many places.”

“Including in Thunderbird Two?”

“Of course.” A giggle. “It’s comfy. John says it is like an old couch.”

“Eos!”

“Well, you did.”

Virgil glared at his space brother.

John sighed, let his shoulders drop and, pushing the co-pilot’s seat back, stood up and faced the music. “Virgil, yes, your ‘bird is comfortable. No, it is not old. Please can I not be berated for a slip of the tongue.”

Scott snorted so hard, he coughed.

Virgil glared up at John a moment longer before grabbing him into a massive hug. He squeezed the breath out of his brother, his face mashed up against a space-suited shoulder.

A strangled squawk from John and Scott outright laughed. “You’ve done it now, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry, Virg.”

His name was little more than a gasp from his brother. Virgil held on a moment longer before relenting and letting go. He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred. “Thank you, John.” It was his turn for a hoarse voice. “I don’t know how to-“

“Hey, hey, Virgil. Don’t strangle the messenger. I only passed on the truth.”

Virgil swallowed and shifted his feet. “You saved me.”

Turquoise widened and flickered to stare at Scott before darting back to Virgil. “You would have done the same.”

“But it was you who did it.” A shaky breath. “Thank you, John.”

John looked down a moment, as if embarrassed, before catching Virgil’s eyes again. “Anytime.” A small smile. “Though I can’t take credit for Gordon’s contribution.” John lent over touched his tablet. “He’s been bleeped all over the world. Grandma is mortified.”

“Oh, god.”

Scott grinned. “Oh, yes, our young aquanaut is in for it when he gets home. Homemade chicken soup and all. Make sure we bring in some extra survival supplies on the way back to the Island.”

Or was that grin a grimace? It was hard to tell.

“Gordon was bleeding to death.”

All the humour left the cockpit.

“He’s going to be fine, Virgil. You know that.” Immediate older brother worry.

A sigh. “I know, Scott. It’s just that all that swearing…Grandma can forgive him due to circumstances. He wasn’t thinking straight.”

John’s voice was clear and firm. “He said what needed to be said. And to be honest, he was the only one who could say it.” He tilted his head to one side. “It gave Sir Hugh Creighton-Ward the ammunition he needed to launch a counter offensive.”

“A what?”

“The World Security Council is in an uproar. I doubt Wainwright’s career is going to survive. Did you notice the complete absence of any rescue craft at the platform?”

Virgil frowned. “Wasn’t the crashed plane a World Rescue craft?”

“Hell, no. That was the fake rescue. It was supposed to land under difficulty, but the pilot mangled the ‘distressed’ landing and crashed it instead. When the whole thing went sour, Wainwright tried to halt our intervention, so she could send in the new heroes and make a real show of it. But then we refused to leave, so she settled for inciting the mob we faced. Those people who refused to return to their pods? Some were plants ordered by Wainwright. A good percentage of that thousand were GDF personnel in plain clothes. She felt that uniforms wouldn’t be as heartfelt as civilian wear on film.”

A stunned stare. “You have proof?”

John looked out the forward windows. “An unforeseen communications error may have inadvertently refracted several of the conversations involved directly into the NTBS satellite.”

Virgil’s stare flattened. “You or Eos?”

“A communications error.”

“You then.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Virgil.”

The engineer rolled his eyes. “Are you safe? You can’t be traced?”

The look John threw at him set nothing more than ‘Are you kidding me? Space ace communications astronaut genius versus those dweebs?’ Not that his brother would actually say those words…but then his specialisation was communications and he was quite capable of expressing himself non-verbally.

Those copper eyebrows could be lethal after all.

God, he had missed him.

Virgil resisted the urge to hug him again.

John must have picked up on it because he took a step back.

Scott took a step forward. “Sir Hugh has called for Wainwright to step down and face criminal charges. Several of her cronies have been named. General Strond is no longer the head of the GDF. Aunt Val has been reinstated.”

Virgil found himself staring again. “It’s been barely twenty-four hours!”

Scott shrugged. “Penny says her father likes to strike when the iron is hot.”

“You’ve spoken to Penny?” But then of course Scott had. She had that news to deliver. Another wave of relief washed over him.

Though sixty-three people had died…on purpose.

The relief was replaced with anger.

“Of course, I did. She flew in to check on Gordon.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Lady P flew in to see Gordon?”

“Well, we are in London. Practically her backyard and she did have that news to deliver.”

“But to see Gordon? Does he know?”

Scott shrugged. “No. Both of you were asleep.” A quirk of his lips. “You were snoring and drooling at the same time. You are quite skilled in the sleeping arts.”

“Shut up.” God, the thought of Lady Penelope seeing him in that state was mortifying.

Scott burst out laughing.

Virgil thumped him. Just a little. Didn’t want to break any of those bird bones of his.

“Ow.”

“Wuss.”

“If you two have finished?” Yes, there were those two lethal copper eyebrows at work.

Before either could answer, Scott’s comms went off. “Scott, dear, Gordon is awake and asking for you. The demands to go home have started and my initial threat of cooking didn’t faze him at all.”

Wow, that was serious. “FAB, Grandma. We’ll be there asap.” Blue eyes shot at his brothers. “Well, that’s a new one.”

“Does he know about the media turnabout?” Virgil’s words froze both of his brothers.

“Oh, no.”

“Shit.”

Scott straightened. “John, secure Thunderbird Five and warn off Eos. The last thing we need is those two in cahouts.”

“FAB.”

“Virgil, you’re on distraction duty. Swipe his tablet if you have to. I want no new social media accounts. Jack is still sorting the last three lawsuits from the jello vs peanut butter war. Occupy him with anything. Paint him if you have to. Grandma would love another portrait. At least it will hold him still for a few minutes. And definitely no outside contacts that aren’t vetted beforehand. Call in Kayo if necessary. A bored Gordon incites bedlam.”

“FAB.” Virgil straightened where he stood.

“I’ll handle Alan. If there is one thing worse than a recuperating Gordon, it is both of them recuperating together. Do we have consensus?”

John and Virgil spoke as one. “FAB.”

Tall and commanding, Scott Tracy held his ground. “Very well…Thunderbirds Are Go!”

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
